


Unexpected Allies

by lady_dorkula



Series: King and jester AU [7]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Batjokes, Blood and Violence, Bruce Wayne as the king, Cause medieval beliefs, Conspiracies, Court of Owls, Everyone will be okay, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, It gets a little religious in the beginning, Jack Napier as the jester, King and Jester AU, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Plot, Secret Relationship, the boys need a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_dorkula/pseuds/lady_dorkula
Summary: In which the king wants to do some good for his people, but are all of his "loyal" subjects on the same page? He sets forth a chain of events that would bring him closer to the truth, even if it often goes hand in hand with trouble. Sometimes things don't go according to plan, but fate always presents a solution.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: King and jester AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621057
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	1. New Friends And Old Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this turned out longer than expected but I've had these interactions in my head for a while now and this was the best opportunity to write them all down. Bruce makes some new friends at long last! Jack is being a little shit like always, and Bruce loves him the way he is. This might get a little ugly, so appologies for that in advance. On the upside, Bruce and Jack's family gets bigger XD Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3

“No doubt you are all wondering why I have gathered you here today,” the king began, taking the time to look at every single one of his council members. It predominantly consisted of the heads of all the noble houses in Gotham, the most powerful and respected of its citizens. For a split second Bruce felt as if he had been thrown in a pit full of vipers poised to attack. The worst part was he didn’t know which ones would be swayed and which ones would lash out at the first sign of trouble. He had to show his cards sooner or later and gauge the reactions. All things considered, it was hard to trust anyone these days.

No one dared say anything, either afraid to interrupt the king, or curious to hear what the purpose of this emergency council meeting was as the ominous silence stretched far longer than it was considered comfortable. Delaying the storm was not an option anymore and the inevitable discontent would not deter him from doing what he thought was right.

“This is unlike our regular council meetings in the sense that we will not be discussing the monthly state of the kingdom. There are other matters concerning the future of Gotham and I believe it would be prudent to address those issues sooner rather than later.” Bruce observed his audience sitting around the table. Most appeared neutral and composed, but some of the faces betrayed a sense of unease and trepidation.

“There is not a single day when I do not think about what I have lost, what this nation has lost. Two great people, probably the best of us. My father and mother, the late King Thomas and Queen Martha, may have been gone for well over a decade now but their ideals and vision for this kingdom still live on.” Bruce made a small pause, though he was not sure if it was because the topic was always difficult to talk about, or because he needed to pluck up his courage to continue.

“May their souls be at peace with our Heavenly Father,” the bishop found it appropriate to chime in out of religious compulsion at the mention of Bruce’s late parents, and in part to fill the silence. The king appreciated the thought but sensed that not all in attendance shared his sympathies. 

“Thank you. We would do ourselves a great disservice if we forget their work or abandon their mission to make our kingdom a better place to live. For everyone. I refuse to let their untimely death put an end to progress and justice. Which is why I have gathered you here today. In a similar vein, I have some big changes in mind for Gotham’s future and I would like to put several things on the table for discussion.” The king left a small pause again, waiting for the murmur to die down. There was no way to prepare the nobility and soften the blow, these changes would have a considerable impact on every one of them one way or another. He continued on, determined.

“We have taken advantage of our land and our people long enough, it is about time we started giving back. And the best way to do it is to take responsibility for our actions and inactions. We have amassed plenty, while the poor folk who make sure our every need is satisfied – have nothing.”

“It is the way of things, your grace. The common rabble need a strong hand to guide them, like a shepherd guides his flock. Isn’t that right, bishop?” an older noblewoman, Lady Crowne, spoke up and looked from the king to the holy man, clearly shaken by the implications of a change in the way the world worked.

“Quite so, milady. It’s the God’s will,” the bishop nodded, steadfast in his conviction.

“God has nothing to do with this!” Bruce exclaimed in protest, the statement earning him a few gasps and more murmurs. He could hear parts of their hushed whispers. ‘Has the king gone mad?’ He knew it was going to be a difficult task reasoning with his council, but he would be damned if he gave up now.

“Blasphemy! It is God’s will that predetermines our roles and stations. If we let the commoners have free roam of the place we would all be ruined, defenseless, not to mention going against centuries-old traditions and beliefs! My king, I beg of you, see reason, renounce this fool’s errand!” The bishop desperately tried to appeal to Bruce’s sense of duty, but the young king was unfazed by the man’s attempts at persuasion.

“The only blasphemous thing I hear right now is how little you think of your own flock, bishop. By what right do you consider yourself, or any of you, better and treat them like slaves? By right of your birth, wealth? Wealth is irrelevant before God and you should know that. The only thing that has any worth is your actions, how you treat those around you, not the amount of gold you have in your purse that makes you better than the rest.” These words made everyone quiet down, either out of shock or shame. Few would admit Bruce was right out loud when there was such fierce opposition.

“Listen, we are taught to share our worldly goods, to help the needy, to be kind to each other and be merciful. And look where we actually are today. Exploiting people, paying them nothing or next to nothing for their labor, treating them like something less than human. We should all be ashamed, for letting out station and fortune blind us.” Bruce took the time to look at every single one of his nobles, not hiding his critical judgement. Some of them lowered their heads, unable to stand his pointed gaze, while others looked scandalized, like they were slapped in the face by the ugly truth. 

“We grow fat on their misery and we don’t even lift our fingers to offer them respect or earn it. Instead we take it by force, by obligation, by fear, by rules that were not fair in the first place because it was easier to make sense of the world this way and control it. I have seen the cruelty of men first-hand, but men can also be merciful and just, firm yet still compassionate.” One of the nobles tried to speak up but Bruce lifted his hand to keep them quiet for now.

“I say we start giving back! Our kingdom will not prosper if we treat its people like dirt despite how much we depend on them to survive and enjoy the comfortable lives we have grown so accustomed to. We cannot keep the old ways forever. If any of you,” Bruce looked around, “ever cared about more than just your own good standing, then you will understand why we need to make a change. We are here not just to demand but to provide as well. We give so we can get in return, an equal exchange.” Some of the nobles scoffed at the words but Bruce paid them no mind until someone voiced what everyone was thinking - another noble, Lord Elliot, erupted with barely-contained indignation.

“Milord, with all due respect, this is frankly insulting, not just to everyone in here, but to your father and forefathers before you. What would they think if their son brought ruin to their kingdom with such irresponsible actions? This is madness! We’ll be overtaken by commoners thinking they are of higher standing! Who would work the fields then?” Most of the nobles nodded in agreement.

“I will excuse you language this time. I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to be afraid of. People will still work the fields, but we compensate them fairly for their labor, we offer them an opportunity to get basic education, to make a living out of their hard work and dedication. We give them basic rights as citizens of this kingdom just as we demand they obey the laws. Everyone will still pay taxes but the peasants will have a better chance to do so if they earn their living in a more dignified and fair way, so everyone can have food on their table at the end of the day. That is the way forward, that is how Gotham will prosper - by building each other up. We will set an example for everyone else to follow. The good will be rewarded with good. Every one of us deserves to proudly call Gotham their home instead of their prison.”

Bruce’s impassioned speech caused even more of a commotion now as everyone tried to outshout each other and voice their protest. Meanwhile the bishop was too busy muttering silent prayers which Bruce pretended not to hear, “Lord, have mercy on your son’s soul, help him see the way.”

“But, your majesty! How are we expected to pay them for using our…your lands? They belong to you, they are part of your kingdom so you can use them however you see fit without asking them. They are merely tools at your disposal. It would be like paying cattle to graze our fields,” a shorter man near the end of the table pointed out, Lord Cobblepot.

“Cattle? Do any of you even hear yourselves talk? You think the peasants are animals because you treat them like animals. You surround yourself with servants and slaves but do you ever consider their lives, what they do to please your every whim and to get nothing in return? We are all living in this kingdom so we have to work together if we want to survive and live with dignity. This is going to take all of us. Everyone will do their part to balance the scales. I promise you, in the end we will all benefit from this and it will unite us more than it ever did before.” Bruce sounded optimistic about the future, knowing there would be those who see the truth in those words, who would stand behind him, not just out of obligation, but because of their beliefs. 

Everyone instantly grew dead quiet when a man who had remained silent up until now, merely observing the proceedings, spoke up.

“Pardon me for saying this, milord, and I mean this with the utmost respect, but mark my words, nothing good will come out of this endeavor. Interfering with the established order of things comes at a price some are not willing or ready to pay until it is too late. Your idealism is commendable, milord, but grossly misplaced.” He finally faced the king fully. He looked smug, as if he knew something the king didn’t.

“For your sake, I hope you did not just make a threat against your king, Lord Wycliffe,” Bruce warned as he held the noble’s chilling stare. 

“Of course not, your majesty, it is just a friendly advice. From someone who has seen kings fall before. I have nothing but the best intentions towards our kingdom and its well-being. Towards our king as well, naturally,” he nodded and sat back without another word. It left everyone staring expectantly at the Bruce instead, who still mulled over the lord’s words that left him feeling even more uneasy.

“Bold ideas like these were probably the reason why my parents met their untimely end, but I will not let their ideals die along with them. Along with their hard work, gone to waste, abandoned, just like how we have abandoned our people.” Bruce stood up, feeling inexplicably exhausted but relieved he finally made his case and confronted his court with these issues and sharing his plans, as controversial as they may seem. “You will have time to think over my suggestions and how we can implement them. Consider your recommendations and concerns until our next council meeting at the end of the month. Council is adjourned until then.” 

That went well. Mostly.

* * *

“That was certainly a rousing speech, sir.” Alfred took Bruce’s mantle off to put it away as soon as he stepped in. The king was back in his chambers where he’d hoped to recharge and regroup after the taxing council meeting. “It took a lot of courage to stand up for what you believe is right. I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you if they were here today. Let us hope the response is not worse than we expected.”

“It’s worth the risk. I’m going to force the Court out of hiding, and in their scramble to regain control to assert themselves they’ll make a mistake. I’m counting on that. Recent developments have only convinced me to go through with this plan sooner. Nobility has grown too cozy in their estates built on the blood, sweat and tears of the poor and the hopeless for decades on end.” Bruce took off his crown for Alfred to put away.

“But at the same time I refuse to believe every single noble house is corrupt, there must be sensible men and women still left who would stand behind me and see reason or at the very least, give this idea a chance. I don’t want to burn any bridges, I just want to fix the old and build new ones.” Bruce went to one of the windows overlooking the courtyard and leaned against the wall, observing the nobles who were still filing out of the castle, apparently engaged in conversation. “After we weed out the traitors, of course. I’ve shaken the tree, now let’s see which of the fallen apples are rotten.”

“Quite the dangerous task, even more so now when it seems like everything and everyone is working against you. But keep in mind there are those who will always believe in you and will have your back whenever the storm breaks,” Alfred moved to stand next to Bruce and placed his hand his shoulder. He knew the king needed all the reassurances he could get, especially right now.

“Thanks, Al. This means a lot,” Bruce look at his steward and gave a small but warm smile before he focused his attention back on the people outside and the corner of his mouth turned down instead. “I can’t rest knowing they are still out there, unpunished for their crimes. It is not beyond reason to think they have connections to the council, perhaps they have always been part of it. I need solid evidence to prove it before I can take any action.”

“I hope the price won’t be too high to pay,” Alfred voiced his concern. “But I suppose it is better to deal with the problem than live in fear all the time.” 

“People are afraid of the unknown. It’s a healthy fear unless it rules your entire life. That’s what they would want. But I will not be intimidated, and neither should you. They have no idea who they are dealing with.” Bruce remained silent for a moment, his expression softening. “What really scares me is that the people I love and care about could get hurt or get caught in the crossfire of my war with the Court.” The king looked down, brows furrowing more than usual. “Has Jack…“ 

“He left a while ago while you were busy with the council. According to plan,” Alfred confirmed. “Before he left he asked me to relay a message to you, but you’ll pardon me if I refuse to do that. It was rather too,” he coughed, “bawdy.” Bruce gave him an apologetic look before Alfred continued. “Hopefully he will know how NOT to attract attention to himself, for his own sake. And our own.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this, it’s too risky. Knowing how skilled our opponents are…If he gets caught…” Bruce sighed and shook his head, suddenly filled with doubt. He knew he couldn’t do it all on his own but he didn’t like putting others’ lives on the line, more so now when the stakes were so high. “I trust he can handle himself but I still can’t help but worry,” Bruce admitted. He was glad he didn’t have to hide his feelings towards Jack in front of Alfred anymore.

“He did volunteer for the job, and just between the two of us, you could really use the help. Regardless, it’s out of our hands now, all we can do is wait for him and his ‘friends’ to return.” Alfred put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll be alright, son. It can’t hurt to have a little faith.”

“Yeah,” Bruce tapped Alfred’s hand and nodded in acknowledgement.

“Well then, I will return to my duties unless you have further need of me, of course. Chin up, Master Bruce,” the steward gave him a smile, hoping his optimism would be infectious, because someone had to stay positive. And Bruce tried. He gave a small smile back and watched as Alfred retreated. “Oh, and that outfit you commissioned is ready. I took the liberty of retrieving it and paying the tailor handsomely for his work and discretion. It was quite the unusual order, certainly not the typical royal attire. It is waiting for you in your trunk. Hope it serves you well, sir.” Alfred gave a knowing smile and left the room.

That got Bruce’s attention. As soon as Alfred disappeared he went to open the trunk to find a neatly folded stack of black clothing inside. He didn’t think it would be ready so soon, he had to thank Alfred for taking care of things for him, as always. Curious, Bruce took the clothes out to inspect them and was left speechless at the sheer craftsmanship and the attention to details, exactly how he envisioned it would be, but better and real. He went through all parts of the outfit one by one. The undershirt and pants were more or less simple looking but not as loose as the usual ones he had, fitting enough to allow easy and unrestricted movement. The new boots felt comfortable and light. The chest armor, pauldrons, the arm, knee and leg guards were all made of black hardened leather that could be fastened easily on one’s own with enough practice. Underneath it all laid a black hooded cloak, and hidden inside it was a mask that would protect his identity, covering half of his face, with two small pointy ears on either side.

Bruce held the mask in his hands, tracing his fingers along the curves and lines of it before placing it on his face. In a way, the mask was like freedom, like he could do what he always wanted but couldn’t do. He didn’t know what had possessed him to request this kind of mask but it felt fitting somehow - a bat, a creature of the night that would instill fear in hearts of criminals and wrongdoers. Though some would probably argue he looked like the devil. It would achieve its purpose either way. Bruce laughed suddenly, thinking Jack would no doubt find the theatricality of it all very amusing. Jack…

He really hoped Jack would be okay.

* * *

Jack was, in fact, not okay.

Far from it, especially considering he was stabbed, his nose was broken, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He spat it out and grinned at his attacker, teeth covered in red.

“Is that the worst you can do? Your mother hits-“ 

A fist collided with his face again and knocked him back on the ground, followed by several harsh kicks to his side just for good measure. Yeah, that cracked a rib or two, probably. Jack closed in on himself and winced through gritted teeth but soon his sounds of pain turned to laughter again as he was pulled up by the collar of his shirt, bringing him face to face with his opponent. Or face to mask, to be more precise, seeing as his attacker’s face was covered. Just like the other two who were now lying dead in their in blood on the ground with daggers lodged in their necks. His own handiwork.

“Not so fast, bird-brain.” Left with no other weapon, but with enough fight left in him, Jack grinned again as he pulled out the throwing knife stuck in his own arm, but as soon as he swung towards the masked man it was swiftly blocked and forced out of his hand, his arm twisted almost to the point of breaking. Although, at this point it was hard to tell what was broken and what was not because he was getting numb to the pain. It was obvious that his opponent was expertly trained, much better than the other two guys, and knew where and how to hit to neutralize his targets. Oh, Bruce would have a field day with that guy, Jack thought as he smiled and tried to free himself from the hold. When the knee to the gut came Jack collapsed in a groaning heap on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

“That’s enough. I want him alive and conscious enough for interrogation. Bring him in.” The voice was cold and commanding, leaving no room for debate. It belonged to a man wearing a black robe, his face hidden behind a white mask. He had been standing there for a while spectating the whole fight, watching with indifference as his men got killed one after the other without even flinching. Jack could recognize ruthlessness when he saw it.

“Whatever you command.” The masked assassin bowed and the last thing Jack remembered seeing before blacking out were the empty eyes of an owl descending upon him.

* * *

It was already way past the time Jack was supposed to return from his mission, which to Bruce was more than enough cause for concern. The king tried to distract himself with his usual activities, training, reading a book, but his heart and mind were never in it enough to actually make sense of what he was reading or doing. He just knew there was something wrong and couldn’t shake off that feeling all day.

He was too anxious, putting down the book for the hundredth time already. Bruce walked to the window that overlooked the courtyard and stared outside as if expecting something would happen, that someone would appear any moment and he didn’t want to miss it. Anything to put his mind at ease. It was dark enough so the guards had lit the torches to illuminate the grounds as they did their usual patrol which Bruce had memorized by now.

Someone else apparently had the same idea because the king saw a shadowy figure sneak past the guards just as they turned around. Could it be? He stood still as he looked carefully, trying to keep track of the figure that slipped effortlessly into the castle grounds as if they had done it before, knowing exactly where to go. Could it be assassins already? So soon? The figure disappeared inside one of the towers.

Without hesitation, armor or no armor, Bruce grabbed his dagger and ran out of the room. It would take too long to put it all on, he might lose track of the intruder if he dallied. He might regret this decision later but right now his instincts told him to act. He made his way down and past the guards as quickly as he could, keeping out of sight as well so as not to spook the intruder or warn them he was on their tail by alarming the guards until his suspicions were proven correct.

He entered the tower as quietly as he could and to his relief there was no one waiting on the other side of the door. There was only one way to go - up. So he made his way up the stairs slowly, his hand on his dagger in case he had to act fast. As soon as he reached the top he found a guard who had apparently fallen asleep sitting at a table. Or was he knocked out? He looked around but couldn’t see anyone else so he approached the guard to make sure he was okay and still breathing.

“Well well, look what the cat dragged in,” came a low-pitched female voice behind him as soon as he reached the guard, quickly followed by the press of a sharp pointy edge of a blade at his back. “You’re not who I was supposed to meet here but I won’t complain.” She dragged the edge down his back but without too much force to cause any injury.

Bruce acted on reflex, twisting out of the way of the blade and grabbing and twisting the hand that held it until he heard the distinct metal clang on the stone floor, pinning the intruder to the wall with his arm. It really was a woman. She had a mask covering the upper part of her face. There was something strangely familiar about her but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. 

“Hands off, you brute!” She protested but as soon as she got a better look at who had disarmed her she smiled and stopped struggling altogether. “On second thought, maybe you can keep your hands there…”

Bruce almost loosened his hold at the remark but quickly came to his senses. He didn’t really know who she was or had any good reason to let her go yet, so he decided to ignore her words for now.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the king demanded instead, taking a better look at her. She was definitely not dressed like a typical lady. Instead, she was wearing a dark leather top and pants that were rather close-fitting to her body.

“Eyes up, handsome. Have you never seen a cat before?” She teased him, but she didn’t struggle to get out of his hold yet. 

“Answer me or it’s the prison cell for you,” Bruce warned again, not in the mood for playing games with the mysterious lady. “Did you kill the guard?”

“Of course not, I just helped him fall asleep, the hard way,” she spared the guard a look before continuing. “He’s gonna be just fine. Relax, your majesty,” her voice lilted at the last part. “So is that how you treat all the ladies?”

“Just the ones who sneak in my castle like thieves and knock out my guards,” Bruce countered. “And you still haven’t answered my questions.”

Her tricks would not work on him apparently so she decided to skip the chitchat and get straight to the point.

“Fine, if you must know I was supposed to meet a weird-looking fellow here, gangly, pale skin, green-“

“Jack?” Bruce’s eyebrows rose up with surprise at the description. He knew the plan was for Jack to call on some of his ‘friends’ to help him with the investigation so maybe she would know more about him and what had happened. “Are you one of his…’friends’?”

“Friends is such a strong word. Business associates maybe, if the pay is good and he did promise it would be. You can ease off now, I’m not going anywhere without my gold anyways. I did work very hard today to earn it,” she suggested and Bruce loosened his hold on her finally.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized lamely as he stepped back to give her more space, moving to check on the guard and make sure he was really breathing. He gave a silent sigh of relief when he noticed the guard’s chest was moving and there were no visible injuries on him. At least no serious damage done. “You already know who I am but you still haven’t told me your name.”

The woman picked the dagger off the floor and tucked it back in its sheath where it belonged.

“Selina Kyle, at your service,” she did an over-the-top curtsy. “It’d be better if we left it at that, your majesty, lest you get any other ideas, a girl’s gotta eat, and I ain’t waiting around for someone else to provide for me,” she crossed her arms, looking him up and down, considering something.

“Relax, I’m not throwing you in prison. Not today, at least,” he reassured but quickly steered the conversation back on track. “So you were supposed to meet Jack here? When was the last time you saw him?”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re worried about him.” She sounded genuinely surprised and intrigued at the same time. Huh. That’s a first. Does he actually care about Jack? At the not-so-subtle cough from Bruce she continued. “But yes, I was supposed to give him something, but seeing as he is not here I guess you are the next best thing. I still want my payment, though. Risked life and limb to get these.” She opened her bag and took out a bunch of documents. “I did collect my interest while I was there, after all it had to look like a regular break-in. So if a bunch of documents were to be misplaced as well it wouldn’t raise too much suspicion. I’m sure Lord Whatever-his-name-was won’t miss those.”

“Smart,” Bruce reached to get the documents but she pulled them away before he could get them. 

“Uh-uh, my payment first. This ain’t no charity, honey, even kings have to pay for services rendered,” she smirked at him, challenging him to honor the deal. “Or maybe I can be convinced to give you those precious documents in exchange for a kiss from the king,” she offered, stepping closer to him, undressing him with her gaze.

Bruce furrowed his brows at the suggestion, reaching for his coin purse instead. “How much did Jack promise you?”

“Thirty gold if there are no complications,” Selina sounded almost disappointed when Bruce decided to give her the coins instead. Huh. That was a first too. Men could rarely, if at all, resist her charms. “Well, there’s a gentleman if I’ve ever seen one.” She handed him the documents in return. “I must say you are not what I expected.” It sounded almost like a compliment.

At first glance Bruce could say those documents were incriminating, indeed. But right now his concern over his lover overrode any sense of victory from finally obtaining solid evidence in his investigation. He had a much more pressing matter to worry about at this very moment.

“What about Jack?” the king looked more desperate than he wanted to let on, but he really couldn’t care less about his image right now. He couldn’t shake off the feeling there was something bad happening while he just stood here chatting.

“Hm, last I saw him he was heading south but that’s all I know, we both had our work to do. Maybe he’s still at Lord Wycliffe’s manor, that’s where he was supposed to go. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s a slippery one, he always gets in and out of a tough situation like it’s nothing.” She tried to reassure him, seeing that Bruce was showing genuine concern for Jack. Interesting. Maybe the king wasn’t so bad after all. She crossed her arms again, looking away. 

“Personally, I don’t go near that place, it gives me the creeps and it makes my skin crawl. As if someone’s always watching from the shadows,” she mused, meeting Bruce’s eyes again. “Just a friendly advice, unless you’re into doing foolish things. I did warn Jack this was a bad idea, but you might already know how stubborn he can be. So there you have it,” Selina waved a hand, moving to leave, feeling like she had overstayed her welcome. She got what she came for so there was no point in lingering here anymore. “See you around, your majesty,” she said playfully, about to go down the stairwell when the king spoke out.

“Thank you,” Bruce looked at her before she would disappear. “And you can call me Bruce. If you want.”

“Hey, business is business. And you can call me Selina,” she gave him a smile and a wink. “I can see why Jack likes you so much. You’re different. Like us.” And with that she was off, as quiet as a cat. By the time Bruce got to the stairs to see her escape she was already gone.

* * *

“Wake him up.”

Cold water splashed in Jack’s face and upper body, his eyes shooting open almost instantly. He gasped, feeling the chill seep into his bones as he struggled to regain his senses. His vision was swimming and it was hard to focus on what was before and around him. It was cold and dim, except for a couple of torches burning on the wall. He felt sick and when he tried to move, he couldn’t. Arms yanked at metal chains but it was no use. Even his legs were shackled. It all started to come back to him. His head was ringing and every breath he took felt like torture. At least they took the time to patch his arm wound so he wouldn’t bleed out before they got what they wanted from him.

“Must have been one hell of a party,” he chuckled but his laughter quickly turned into a cough. It hurt to breathe much less laugh but that didn’t stop him. He wouldn’t give them the sick satisfaction of knowing they broke him, he doesn’t break that easily. “Though, I gotta say this must be the weirdest place I’ve woken up in. How kinky.” Jack dangled the chains annoyingly before he was backhanded hard across the face.

“You will speak when spoken to, filth.” It was same man with the white mask. He stood there almost like a statue as if studying his prey before attacking. For the sake of brevity, Jack would just call him the boss. But he was not the one who struck Jack. That would be his other birdy friend he scuffled with earlier who had a black mask instead. It was almost as if the boss didn’t want to get his hands dirty with the likes of him so he let the assassin do the dirty work for him.

“Ouch! That hurt more than the slap,” Jack acted all insulted by the derogatory term. This remark earned him another hit. His head was buzzing, but he just shrugged it off and smiled defiantly in the face of danger.

“You must really be a fool to show your face around here. There’s a special place in hell reserved for traitors.” The boss’ voice betrayed no emotion, sounding almost bored to be talking with his prisoner. It was grating on Jack’s ears, he just wanted to punch the guy so he would shut up.

“Oh, YOU would know, wouldn’t you?” Jack sneered at his interrogator. “Plus, I didn’t betrayed anyone. I was never part of your merry band of bird enthusiasts in the first place.” Apparently the boss didn’t like his mocking tone and with just a nod, his little bodyguard struck Jack again. 

“You had an agreement with us and you didn’t fulfil it,” the boss remained stoic and calm.

“Well, you can shove your agreement right up your-“ And another hit, straight to his injured side. Jack hissed with pain, trying to close up and protect himself but his chains allowed almost no freedom of movement. So it was no use trying to avoid or lessen the blow, despite the body’s instincts of self-preservation.

“What were you doing here?” The boss asked, completely ignoring Jack’s previous outburst and attempt at an insult. When no answer came he gave a silent signal to the assassin. He yanked Jack’s hair with enough force to make him look up and force him to answer the question he was asked. “Answer or your death will be prolonged and much more painful, I can promise you that.”

Jack blinked and tried to ignore the sharp pain in his side, if they kept going he was going to lose consciousness again. Maybe it would be a small mercy compared to the alternative. He wondered how long he could stall them. He didn’t know what time of day it was, or how long he had been here, it was all blurry in his head, fuzzy, disoriented, and the lack of windows or sunlight didn’t bode well or give him any hope. Jack was in real trouble and Bruce was going to be so mad. He clenched his jaw and forced a smile.

“Oh, you know, I was just out for a stroll, enjoying the nature. Always wanted to see your gardens, they’re the talk of-” He saw the gut punch coming a mile away but one could never truly prepare for the air to be forced out of them so violently. Jack gasped for breath, slumped down as much as the chains would allow him, pulling painfully on his arms as they took most of his weight.

“Who knows you’re here? Who do you work for? The king? Answer, if you know what’s good for you.” The boss sounded more impatient now after hitting yet another wall with his questioning. His prisoner was apparently a tough nut to crack. But everyone cracked eventually, everyone had their breaking point, even insolent fools like this one. 

The assassin yanked at Jack’s hair again to make him face the boss who stepped closer now, looking down on the tortured man.

“Who are you so dead set on protecting? Are they really worth dying for?” Jack remained silent, sneering at the white mask. “One name and I can make all the pain go away. I can end your suffering.” When no answer came again, the boss sighed, disappointed.

“I would have been a more gracious host and offer you my undivided attention, but alas, I am required elsewhere. Not to worry, I am leaving you in very capable hands.” The man in the white mask nodded at the assassin and gave his instructions.

“You know what to do, make him talk. I have a meeting to attend to.” He looked back towards Jack’s limp form hanging from the chains, leaned down to his level, speaking with twisted delight.

“Enjoy your stay. It will be your first and last.” He admired the appearance of his helpless, beaten-up prisoner shivering from the cold. “I might even have you buried in my gardens since you wanted to see them so much. If there are any pieces left of you to bury, that is. Consider it my parting gift to you, even if it is more than you deserve.”

* * *

The king didn’t have the time or patience to read through the documents he acquired so he locked them away in a safe place for later. His main focus right now was getting on Jack’s trail and hoping he wouldn’t be too late. It was a gut feeling, he knew something had gone wrong. Complications do happen and as much as he trusted Jack to deal with those, his instinct was telling him to follow. His instincts were rarely wrong, and he didn’t want to leave it all to chance. More so since it was Jack's life on the line.

He quickly got dressed in his new outfit, finding it rather comfortable and easy to move in, light and stealthy, protective enough to stop most attacks if it came to that. He tucked two daggers in some specially made sheaths fastened on the both sides of his thighs, as well as a few throwing knives. There was no telling what resistance he might encounter so he had to be prepared, adding a few more things in the pouch on his belt. Then he donned the woolen black cloak, fastening it around the collar so it would stay in place. And finally, the mask. He didn’t think he would have to use it so soon, but it arrived at just the right time.

“Hang on, Jack. I’m coming.”

He navigated corridors and hallways he knew by heart. After the thrill of avoiding any guards and servants the first couple of times he had to sneak out of the castle, he felt confident in what he was doing now and which path and route to take to get him where he wanted. Without much trouble, he found his way outside, slipping past the guards who were too busy talking to each other to notice him. He really had to tighten up his security if it was this easy to get in and out of the castle, he thought. He could deal with this concern later.

Lord Wycliffe’s manor was in the outskirts of town. It was a big estate Bruce had visited more times than he could count, mostly for business, rarely as a social call. He had to admit the lord always had an uneasy air about him but Bruce attributed that to his personality. He was considering more damning possibilities after today. Did Jack uncover more than he bargained for? Was there really something more behind this man’s intensity? He had power and resources, conservative beliefs and he seemed to command the respect of the other nobles as well. If Bruce should suspect anyone to be a part of the Court, Wycliffe would certainly fit the bill.

His mind raced with the implications as he dashed through the empty alleys, long abandoned by the common folk who were probably asleep at this late hour. Which meant Bruce could reach the manor even faster. He had to hide away a couple of times to stay out of the sight of several suspect individuals who were also wandering the streets perhaps looking for trouble. He would not get distracted.

Eventually he got a view of the estate in the distance. The building itself was covered in darkness. It seemed there was no one inside, or if there was they were probably asleep. There were just a few torches lit near the entrance of the estate, but otherwise the darkness felt too eerie and foreboding. There were no signs of activity or the presence of anyone around as he approached along the path, staying hidden behind the trees and bushes just in case, keeping his steps light and silent. His eyes had already adjusted to the dark so he could see well enough or detect any movement, but besides the stray wild rabbit that crossed his path, there was no one. He didn’t like this. If Jack wasn’t here…

Bruce heard something. The rustle of leaves and the crack of a branch made him look up towards the source of the noise. At first he thought it might have been a bird but when he looked more carefully he noticed a dark figure that seemed nothing like a bird or an animal. There was someone up the tree.

Bruce crouched and moved closer as silent as possible so as not to give away his position or the fact he was there as he observed the figure. The leaves rustled again when the figure moved a little, which gave Bruce a better view. Was that a child?

The king debated what to do. This was clearly not the place for a child to be, in the middle of the night, on a tree, near a lord’s manor. There were many things not right with this image. That was just asking for trouble. He could swear he heard a sob. 

He couldn’t ignore this situation so he decided to get the kid’s attention without spooking it too much. He lowered his mask and hood so his face could be seen. He didn’t want to scare the child, or worse, be the reason it fell down and got hurt at his sudden appearance.

“Hey…hey! What are you doing up there, kid?” Bruce spoke calmly, staying still so the child could see him down there. The rustling stopped as soon as he spoke. There was silence for a long minute. He could tell the child was spooked, pretending there was no one on the tree. He should have seen it coming, he had to reassure the kid. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” More silence. Bruce sighed, he was not the best with kids, but then again, this was not the typical situation one would find himself in.

“You’re not with the bad men?” a boyish voice came from the crown of the tree.

“I’m not,” Bruce looked up again and shook his head, even though he was sure the kid probably couldn’t see him do that from up there. “So what are you doing up there?” he asked again. There was again a long pause, the boy was probably considering whether to answer the question.

“Investigating,” came the curt response.

“Investigating what exactly?” Bruce was surprised at the response, but he also couldn’t hide his curiosity. This was an unusual situation.

“None of your business. Just go away, you’ll ruin my cover,” the boy sounded irritated and not very forthcoming with his answer.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be skulking around in the dark, spying on people?” Bruce tried instead.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be doing the same?” came the response, which the king found kind of amusing, if a little rude. The boy got him there. Also with an acorn too that the boy threw at him. Bruce found himself smiling.

“You know you shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous,” he attempted to reason with the kid again. He had a mission but he still wouldn’t let anyone innocent get hurt if he could help it.

“Ugh, I can handle myself, mister. Just leave me alone,” the kid wouldn’t budge either. Stubborn. This called for a change of tactics.

“How about I tell you what I am investigating if you come down from the tree,” Bruce suggested, hoping the boy’s curiosity would outweigh his stubbornness. It took another long minute for the boy to make a decision. Just when Bruce thought he would lose this battle of wills, he heard movement and watched as the boy climbed down and jumped from the tree with much more agility than he expected. He looked no more than twelve-thirteen years old, not as small as he looked from below. The boy landed near him and remained crouched on the ground, taking a better look at Bruce now that he was closer. Bruce felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny but he let the boy take his time before engaging.

“So what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?” the kid finally asked and gestured at the king’s attire as if he couldn’t understand what the man was wearing. Bruce tried not to take offense at the question when it was phrased like that. Instead he focused on the reason he was here.

“I’m actually looking for a friend of mine. Tall, lanky, pale fellow, he might have gone through here,” Bruce looked towards the estate entrance, the darkness almost concealing the wistful expression on his face. “I think he might be in serious trouble.” His brows furrowed as he focused his attention back on the boy, not hiding his concern. The boy looked down in thought.

“I’ve seen him. There were men carrying him that way,” the kid pointed in a direction away from the estate. Bruce’s eyes went wide at the words as he followed the direction of his pointed finger to the small family chapel near the edge of the forest. So Jack had been here!

“Are you sure?” Bruce was almost too afraid to show hope but this was just the information he needed, his eyes searching the boy’s face for any sign of deceit, but even in the dark he could tell the boy was telling the truth.

All the boy did was nod in confirmation. Bruce felt relief but also a sense of urgency, now that he knew where to continue his search. He hoped he was not too late.

“Thanks, kid. And trust me, you should go home, you don’t want to mess with these people. They mean trouble. The deadly kind,” Bruce warned the boy, knowing he probably couldn’t dissuade him but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

“Don’t I know it! They killed my parents!” The boy almost shouted those words in anger and bitterness.

“What?” The sudden outburst took the king by surprise. But before he could say anything else, the boy continued.

“They murdered them in cold blood! My parents did nothing wrong! These men wanted to take me away but my dad wouldn’t let them…so they…I…” the boy was clenching his fists so tightly his hands were shaking. “I tracked them and they led me here.” The boy finally looked up and towards the estate with determination. “I’m just looking for an opportunity to strike, avenge my parents. I won’t hide like a coward. Not again.”

“They killed your parents?” It all felt too familiar to Bruce. Suddenly he was transported back to his own childhood when the same thing happened to his mother and father. He felt bile rise up in his throat. The Court of Owls had a lot of crimes to answer for and he was going to make sure they did.

“…yes,” the boy said, his expression turning sorrowful as if the realization had hit him. Bruce remained silent for a while, knowing what the boy was going through right now better than anyone else. He was angry, lashing out, but beneath it all, the boy was heartbroken. Alone in the cruel, indifferent world which didn’t care that another child was left an orphan because of people’s greed.

“How long have you been here?” Bruce asked instead, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Almost a day, maybe more, I don’t know.” The kid sounded ashamed, perhaps because he had been here so long without doing what he came here to do. What he thought he wanted to do. Bruce sighed and reached for something attached to his belt.

“Here, have some water, you must be thirsty.” Bruce handed him his waterskin, which the boy took after a moment’s hesitation and drank from it with big gulps. “Easy, you’ll get sick if you drink too much.”

“Thanks,” the boy sighed and looked at Bruce as he returned the waterskin. 

“I’m sorry, kid,” Bruce placed his hand back on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He really meant it. 

“So am I,” a few tears rolled down the boy’s face but he quickly brushed them off before they could turn into rivers. Bruce squeezed his shoulder again, wanting to reassure him. 

“Hey, hey…it’s okay…it’s okay. I know how you feel, I’ve been there too.” At the words the boy looked questioningly as he brushed a few more tears away. Bruce decided to distract the boy with some other thought. He realized they haven’t introduced each other yet. “So what’s your name?” 

“Richard,” the boy replied.

“Nice to meet you, Richard. I’m Bruce,” the king gave a friendly smile. But before he could say anything more a sound coming from the direction of the chapel got both of their attention. They lowered down closer to the ground to remain hidden as they observed what was happening.

It was a man, followed by another one close behind, both wearing black. As they got closer, Bruce recognized the face of Lord Wycliffe but the other man was masked so he couldn’t see who that was. Probably an assassin or a bodyguard. They neared the entrance of the estate when a servant brought two horses from the stables for them. Bruce had to physically stop Richard from getting up and rushing in their direction, keeping him down on the ground.

“Don’t, you’re no match for both of them,” Bruce whispered, as he pulled the boy back down to remain hidden.

“But they’re right there! And it’s two of us! We can take them!” Richard sounded too eager, his judgement was clouded and he would regret that decision. Bruce wouldn’t allow it to come to that. He recognized the drive for vengeance, but he had to approach this with a cooler head.

“And we will get ourselves killed if we do,” Bruce insisted. “Your parents wanted you to live. Honor their sacrifice.” The words got to the boy and he stopped struggling, looking at Bruce with anger but his expression fell after he thought about it. “Live now so you can get justice for their deaths later. You’re not alone in this. I can help you.” Bruce stared at the boy with more unwavering determination than ever. Richard eventually nodded and they both focused their attention back on the two figures, who were on their horses by now.

Both Bruce and Richard ducked lower as the two man rode past them. They were headed back to town, though what business they could have in town so late was beyond Bruce right now. Nothing good for sure. But as much as he wanted to follow them and find out, he wanted to find Jack more. God, he hoped he was okay, the sinking feeling in his gut was still ever present. 

“Let’s go get your friend then,” Richard suggested all of a sudden and brought Bruce back to reality.

“You’re not going anywhere, you’re a kid, you’re not a fighter,” Bruce was firm in his decision. He didn’t want the death of one more innocent person to weigh on his conscience. 

“I’m not just a kid, I can help! I’m super agile, I’ve been training to be an acrobat since I was a baby, just like my mom and dad,” Richard insisted as he pleaded his case, refusing to be put on the sidelines. “Please.” 

“An acrobat is not a fighter, Richard, you could get seriously hurt,” Bruce tried to reason with him. The boy pouted and crossed his arms in return. They were in a deadlock, neither of them giving an inch. This was ridiculous. “You’re not coming and that’s final! Wait here.” 

Bruce got up from their cover and started for the chapel. Not surprisingly, the boy followed behind him all the way to their destination when Bruce turned around and looked at Richard with disapproval but the kid just wouldn’t give up. He knew the kid would follow him no matter what Bruce said. He sighed with defeat.

“Fine…Just stay hidden, alright? And don’t come out until I tell you to. We don’t know what we’re dealing with and it might get really ugly,” Bruce instructed and the boy nodded. He really hoped this went well. As they approached, Bruce noticed an owl perched on the roof of the building, watching them, like a predator does a prey. If that wasn’t a sign, Bruce didn’t know what it was. This really had to be the place, unless the universe had been giving him false signs.

Before entering the chapel, Bruce put on his mask again to conceal his identity. When he turned to check on the Richard, the boy was staring at him with wide eyes and mouth agape.

“What?” Bruce asked.

“You look scary,” Richard said looking at the mask.

“That’s the point,” Bruce gave the tiniest smiles and motioned for the boy to follow. “Come on, let’s see what’s inside. And remember, stay behind me, stay hidden.”

“Yes, sir!” Richard replied and followed the king inside the inconspicuous-looking building.

For all intends and purposes, the chapel looked as unimpressive on the outside as it did on the inside. At least at that was Bruce’s initial take on the place. Interestingly enough, there was a torch burning near the back of the chapel where he spotted a door. He supposed that door led to the family crypts underground, which were again not an unusual luxury for the wealthy and powerful members of Gotham society. It was also the only possible way to go from here.  
Richard was busy looking around the chapel when Bruce stepped closer to the door. There were faint tracks on the ground that indicated recent movement that led in and out of the door, so it was safe to assume this was where they had to go too. Of course, it was locked.

Bruce crouched in front of the door and felt around his belt for something as Richard stepped closer to watch what he was doing.

“We could just break it,” the boy suggested.

“No, we don’t want to alert anyone of our presence, not yet anyways. We keep it quiet, that way we may have the element of surprise,” Bruce whispered as he worked on the lock with a thin metal piece that looked almost like a key but not quite. The boy nodded in understanding as he watched. When they heard the distinct click of the lock, the king nodded at Richard who was smiling victoriously, staring at Bruce in awe.

“You gotta teach me that trick too,” the boy sounded excited.

“Maybe later, come on,” Bruce gave him a smile and tucked the pick back in the pouch on his belt. It always paid to be prepared. He rose to his feet and opened the door slowly, only to be greeted with more darkness and the stale air coming from within the crypt. There was a slight draught which meant these tunnels did not lead to a dead end. A stairway led deeper underground but before they could proceed any further he took the lit torch nearby to light the way. There was no moonlight to help them see underground and there was no telling what was waiting for them down there. They had to risk it.

“Remember what I told you,” Bruce reminded the boy and started his descend down the stairs, with Richard following after a slight hesitation. “Step lightly,” the king whispered, “there could be traps.”

The boy obeyed and kept his eyes on where he was stepping, and soon enough the stairs led to a chamber. It looked like the actual family crypt. There was dust and cobwebs everywhere besides along the path that led deeper underground. Richard shivered at the sight, and the cold air wafting through the dark passage didn’t feel very reassuring either. Neither did the rat that ran across their way and filled the silence with its squeaks.

“You still with me, kid?” Bruce looked around to make sure the boy was alright.

“Yeah, it’s just…” Richard looked unsure and maybe afraid.

“You can still go back and wait for me outside, you know. You don’t have anything to prove,” the king tried to give him an out. But the boy quickly adjusted his posture, straightened his back, and looked back at Bruce with defiance.

“No, I’m fine, let’s keep going.” Considering what the boy had been through, he was really brave to still insist on pushing on. Bruce nodded, understanding where this stubbornness was coming from and as much as he didn’t like worrying about the kid too, he respected his decision. After all, he wasn’t just a kid anymore.

The passage ran deeper than Bruce had suspected. Before long they entered another chamber which might have served a more sinister purpose many years ago, but no more. There was a long table in the center of the room, with a dozen chairs around it, which suggested this room had probably been used for meetings, but it had long been abandoned and left at the mercy of time. 

Could this be where the Court used to gather once, to conspire against kings and queens, against its enemies? It led Bruce to wonder how many more places like this existed beneath the very ground he walked on. How blissfully unaware he was of the darkness that had been spreading through the veins of Gotham, poisoning it for centuries. Whatever dark secrets this room held were to remain hidden forever, underneath a thick layer of dust, like everything else in here.

“Achoo!” Bruce turned at the sudden noise to find Richard covering his nose and mouth. “Sorry, there’s a lot of dust here,” the boy justified himself for sneezing. It was understandable.

Bruce hoped no one heard that. Only after a long pause and no sign of anyone or anything coming their way he visibly relaxed but still remained vigilant. Something else caught his attention. There was a relief of some sort on the wall. He traced his fingers along a symbol etched into the stone and brushed the cobwebs away to reveal the whole image.

“It looks like an owl,” Richard decided as he observed the symbol, “what does it mean?” The king too his time to answer.

“Have you heard about the Court of Owls?” Bruce tried, looking at the boy who shook his head in reply. “It’s a myth, almost as old as Gotham. They say this Court of Owls rules this kingdom from the shadows. They watch and they know everything, and whoever dares speak of them disappears forever, killed by the Talons.” The king stared at the symbol as if it would reveal all the answers. And in a way it did. “The truth of the matter is, they’re not just a myth anymore. They never were.” The boy stared wide-eyed at Bruce.

“My parents never told me anything about a Court of Owls,” Richard trying to remember if he ever heard them talk about it before, even in passing. “We never really stayed in one place for too long, travelling entertainers and all that.”

“Perhaps with good reason, maybe that’s why they moved around so often,” Bruce mused, considering the possibilities, pieces fitting together one after the other. “Your family…they were acrobats too, were they not?” At the boy’s mournful nod, Bruce continued, thinking out loud. “The Court employs and trains their assassins, the Talons, to do their dirty work. My guess is, they saw something in you they could use, your talents and your youth. Perhaps they wanted to recruit you or steal you away but your parents interfered and stopped them.”

There was a long pause after that. The boy just stared down at his feet, speechless, but the anguish was written all over his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, Bruce thought, already regretting voicing his hypothesis.

“It’s all my fault then…their deaths…if it wasn’t for me…” Richard whispered, a tear rolled down his cheek but he quickly wiped it away as he continued staring at the ground with such grief that made Bruce’s heart ache because he knew exactly what the boy was going through.

“It wasn’t your fault, Richard,” Bruce knelt on one knee so he was more on level with the boy and put the torch down, taking his mask off. He held the boy’s shoulders so he would focus on Bruce instead, so he would really listen, so the words would really sink in. “You can’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it. If anyone is to blame, it’s the Court. They murdered your parents, not you.”

Richard sniffled as he looked up when Bruce spoke. His eyes darted all over the man’s face as he listened, as if trying to spot a lie, finding only honesty and unshakeable conviction to replace the doubt and self-hatred eating at him from the inside. It took Bruce by surprise when the boy moved in and wrapped his arms around him in a hug, his cloak muffling Richard’s sobs as he wept quietly.

“It will be alright,” Bruce hugged him back and let the boy cry. The wound was still too sore and it would take a lot of time for his heart to heal. He knew the boy would never be the same, just like how he had changed on that fateful night so many years ago. Though, the pain still felt fresh, as if it happened yesterday. The king held the boy as he spoke. 

“I lost my parents to the Court too when I was a kid, almost around your age too. I blamed myself for it, I kicked and screamed at everyone and everything. I was angry at the world for being so cruel. But I was lucky to still have someone who cared about me, who showed me the right way back from the brink. That life continues and not all is lost as long as I am alive to carry on like my mom and dad would have wanted me to. For them. And for myself.” Richard had stopped crying at this point and just listened. Bruce pulled back so he could look Richard in the eyes.

“Channel that anger in the right direction. For the longest time all I wanted was to get revenge for my parents’ death, but it almost destroyed me. Later I realized it was not just me who have suffered by their hand, there were so many out there who never got justice for all the pain and suffering the Court has caused. But I knew I could do something to change that, to do my best and make sure this doesn’t happen to another child again. To even the odds. One good deed at a time,” Bruce smiled at Richard and brushed a tear away from his eye. “And so can you.”

The boy’s eyes were watering again when he gave Bruce another tight hug.

“Thank you,” Richard said. It felt comforting to know someone cared enough, probably more than most ever would about a poor orphan’s life who was left with nothing. Maybe not quite nothing. He pulled back from the hug and gave Bruce a smile, which was more than the king hoped to get after everything.

“So how about it? Shall we start our quest for justice by saving my friend? He could really use our help,” Bruce suggested and when the boy nodded he put his mask back on and rose to his feet again, taking the torch from the ground. “Let’s show the Court they can’t mess with good people.”

Richard didn’t need any more convincing to follow the king further inside. If anything, he felt even more determined to help Bruce, even if it meant coming face to face with his parents’ killers. But he wasn’t alone, not anymore. And that gave him courage.  
They went on. It was as if there was no end to this tunnel. There were several side tunnels that had caved in a long time ago, which narrowed down the possible ways to go. The deeper they went the stuffier the air got. The walls were in disrepair, cracked in places, with roots worming their way through the crevices as if nature itself was trying to reclaim this forgotten place. 

The passage went through a cave chamber but they couldn’t tell how big the cave actually was because the torch couldn’t illuminate far enough. So it had to be quite big. Richard threw a rock out of curiosity and it took a few seconds until he heard a splash at the bottom of the black chasm.

“Watch your step,” Bruce warned as he illuminated their path which was missing some stones, part of it had collapsed with time. It was like a bridge over the dark abyss that they had to cross to get to the other side. There were wooden planks used to bridge some of the larger gaps. Apparently someone had tried to fix the path a while ago but didn’t bother with anything more secure than wood that might have rotten by now. “Follow my lead.” The two moved slowly across, but besides the occasional creak of the wood and the stray falling rock here and there, they made it to the other side just fine. They both let out a sigh of relief when they got back on solid ground again.

Luckily, they were getting closer to something, because they could see a faint light at the end of the long passage. If there was a light, that meant there were people. They had to prepare for trouble. Bruce silently debated whether to extinguish the torch since it would give away their presence, but his thought was cut short when a scream echoed through the tunnel and chilled him to the bone.

“Quickly!” Bruce urged the boy as he picked up the pace, still trying to keep his steps light and silent, extinguishing the torch as they approached the end of the passage. He could hear a low male voice, unlike the scream he heard before, but it too grew silent the closer they got. Bruce snuck to the barred doorway, with Richard not far behind, and pressed himself close to the wall as he chanced a look through the opening and around the corner. 

The room was dimly-lit by a couple of torches and it appeared empty at first glance, even though he swore he heard a voice before. Unlike the other chambers they passed through before, this one looked more like a dungeon where prisoners were kept. 

Bruce cautiously leaned his head to get a better look at the other side when he spotted a man, chained to the wall. His eyes went wide when he recognized the prisoner. It was Jack! He felt a whole mix of emotions - sick, livid, heart clenching at the sight of his lover hanging on the wall like a piece of meat, bloodied and lifeless. They were going to pay.

“Stay here, in the shadows,” Bruce turned and whispered to the boy. His idea of a stealthy approach flew out the window as soon as he saw Jack there, so without much ceremony he pushed the gate open and made his way inside, running up to his lover to check on him.

“Jack! Jack! Come on, open your eyes,” Bruce knelt down and cupped Jack’s cheeks, begging him to wake up. The skin felt wet and cold to the touch. He couldn’t be dead. No. His eyes teared up as he brushed the hair out of his bloodied face, cooing and pleading for Jack to open his eyes. “No, no, no, please,” Bruce sounded more desperate, leaning closer to see if Jack was breathing. It was faint, but there was still life left in him. The king sighed with relief, he wasn’t too late. So he doubled his efforts to bring Jack back from the brink, caressing his cheeks and hair, shaking him gently awake. “Come on, Jack, do it for me.” He leaned closer and kissed his cheek, whispering into his ear. “I’m here, love. It’s Bruce.”

Jack mumbled something unintelligible as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking and unfocused, before they went wide all of sudden. “B-“ 

“Yes, it’s me! I’m here!” Bruce gave the biggest smile when Jack finally stirred awake, brushing his cheeks gently with thumbs. “It’s-“

“B-behind you!” Jack shouted with all the energy he could muster.

Bruce rolled aside on instinct, nearly missing a hit aimed at his head before turning around and getting on his feet, assuming a defensive stance and facing his assailant. It was a man, dressed in black and it wasn’t hard to figure out he was one of the Talons, he’d seen that mask before. He must have been hiding in the dark waiting for the intruders to show themselves before striking. And Bruce fell for it.

“Good, more company! Let’s hope you are chattier than your friend over there,” the masked man taunted as he flipped and twirled a dagger in his hand. “I was just about to start cutting pieces he could do without.”

Bruce gritted his teeth, but didn’t let the assassin provoke him into attacking first. Even though the thought of someone hurting Jack like that made his blood boil, he tried to control his anger so it wouldn’t cloud his judgement or rule his actions. It wasn’t just his life at stake here and he wasn’t about to let anyone down. He couldn’t afford mistakes, not now. He had someone to fight for.

“I’m surprised you made it this far, but I’m afraid this is as far as you’ll go. Now you die!” The assassin moved in a blink of an eye, throwing a few knives which Bruce managed to dodge but just barely as they grazed on his armor. 

Another set of throwing knives flew Bruce’s way but he rolled out of their path, much more in tune with his senses now, mind focusing on the fight and his opponent, pushing everything else to the side. In turn, he threw a few knives of his own, one of which found its mark. 

The king barely had the time to react when the assassin swung his dagger at him, leaning out of the way once, twice, three times before he blocked the assassin’s arm mid-flight, and delivered a punch to his face, twisting the arm until it dropped the weapon on the ground. Bruce tried to use the opening to kick his opponent, but the Talon maneuvered around to evade the attack and freed himself from Bruce’s hold, delivering a kick of his own that pushed the king back.

“Not bad,” the assassin chuckled as he circled around Bruce, calculating his move and his opponent’s defenses, “but you’ll have to do better than that.” He rushed, but just as Bruce swung his fist he dodged out of the way and grabbed the dagger he dropped earlier, slashing at the side of his thigh which was left unprotected by the armor.

Bruce hissed with pain, but managed to ignore it so he could get out of the way of a way worse injury. The assassin was not letting up, giving almost no time for Bruce to react as he dodged slash after slash, blocking punch after kick in quick succession. The Talon showed no sign of slowing down or getting tired, each of his attacks - relentless and precise. 

The king matched him at every turn. His rigorous training had helped him build up his endurance and stamina, but he had to make a move soon and go on the offensive instead if he hoped to get the upper hand.

He finally found an opportunity to turn the tables when the next hit came. Bruce blocked the attack and threw his weight forward, toppling both of them on the ground, knocked the wind out of the Talon at the impact. Bruce used the chance to disarm him and kick the dagger away from both of them, proceeding to land punch after punch on his opponent. He screamed with fury, letting all of his anger out on the assassin, for everything they had done to his lover, and who knows to how many others too. They would not get Jack too!

His fists faltered when he felt a sharp pain in his side. When the king looked down to see where it was coming from, he saw a throwing knife lodged deep in there. It diverted his attention for just a second. A mistake.

That was when the assassin flipped them around, taking out another dagger in the process - one of Bruce’s own, and drove it down towards his throat with both hands on the handle. Bruce managed to stop the blow before it connected, but the assassin pushed even harder to break his defenses.

“NO!” Jack shouted, struggling against his chains, trying to free his hands, but to no avail. The iron was just digging deeper into his wrists, tearing skin, but that pain didn’t stop him from trying to free himself. He couldn’t just stand there and watch as his lover was killed. Not Bruce. 

Despite all the thrashing and screaming, the assassin paid him mind.

“At least you get to die like a warrior. The same can’t be said about your friend over there. His death will be long…and painful,” the Talon chuckled darkly and leaned his weight more on his hands, the edge of the blade almost reaching Bruce’s throat.

Bruce gritted his teeth, mustering all of his strength to keep the blade away but his arms were starting to shake with the effort. He wouldn’t give in and let them win. He couldn’t let them kill Jack. He growled with anger, feeling the tip of the dagger touch his neck as he strained to keep it away.

“I’m gonna kill you if it’s the last thing I do, you hear me?!” Jack snarled at the assassin, like a vicious animal, words dripping with hatred, pulling at the chains with force.

“Goodb-“ the Talon’s speech was cut short when something heavy connected with his head and he slumped down to the ground and off Bruce. Behind him stood Richard, holding the torch they carried on the way here. The boy looked down at the assassin with wide eyes and then at Bruce before dropping the torch on the ground and kneeling down next to him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, worried, noticing the knife sticking out of Bruce’s side and the droplets of blood on his neck.

“I’ll be fine,” Bruce winced as he sat up and inspected his wounds. He was bleeding but it could have been much worse. “Thanks for the help, kid. I owe you my life,” he looked at the boy and smiled through the pain. This could have gone a lot differently if it weren’t for Richard. “You were very brave.”

“It’s a good thing I came along then,” Richard preened at the praise, feeling proud of himself for doing the right thing. He was not going to hide and watch as someone he cared about got murdered. Not again.

They both heard the sound of a throat clearing, attracting their attention.

“Very touching. Not to be ungrateful for the valiant rescue or anything, but can someone please get me out of these now? I can’t feel my arms, or anything for that matter,” Jack dangled his chains weakly. He sounded tired, his voice hoarse, either from screaming or thirst. Probably both.

“Yeah, sorry,” Bruce apologized and got up with a bit of an effort, considering there was a knife stuck in his side. Which he took out with a hiss. He tore a long piece off his cloak and tied it around his middle to stop the bleeding, or as much as he could stop it, and did the same for the cut on his thigh. He looked around and found a set of keys left hanging on the wall near the entrance and went to take them, hoping those would unlock the chains. Would be faster than resorting to his picks again. Bruce tried all of the keys until he found the one that clicked. He released Jack’s arms one by one before moving to the legs, checking his body for any other visible injuries while he was at it.

In the meantime, Richard went over to the assassin lying on the floor and tentatively kicked at his leg to check if he was still out, just in case.

“What did they do to you, Jack…” Bruce sighed and muttered to himself, regretful that he let this happen in the first place. Besides the bloodied wrists, the broken nose and the bruises on his face, there seemed to be a stab wound on his arm too, but who knew how much more there was hidden underneath the clothes. The smaller man winced at the stiffness in his shoulders as he slowly lowered his hands down, finally feeling the rush of blood back in his limbs, like small pinpricks all over his skin.

“Thanks, dear,” Jack smiled weakly at Bruce who returned the sentiment. “You look dashing, by the way.” He watched as his lover removed his mask. “Love the outfit, and the mask. So mysterious,” he chuckled. 

Jack sighed when Bruce cradled his face and gave him a soft kiss that felt like a healing salve on his injuries. The king gently took his hands and inspected the ugly red marks around his wrists where the skin had broken. The sight made Bruce wince, he couldn’t stand to see his lover hurt like that.

“I was afraid I was too late,” the king admitted, bringing Jack’s hands up to kiss them before looking into his eyes, anguish written on his face. “When I saw you here at first I thought…God, I was afraid you’d…” Bruce choked up on his words.

“I’m alive, Bruce,” Jack smiled at him again and brushed a stray tear from his lover’s face. “I’m not going anywhere. Well, hopefully out of this cursed dungeon soon, but you know what I mean,” he chuckled again and caressed his cheek, getting lost in the familiar blue eyes. “For a moment I thought I’d never see that handsome mug again.”

Bruce closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Jack’s, both of them sighing at the contact. It was as if nothing else mattered anymore, the pain, the suffering, the close-to-death experiences, the conspiracy. Just them. Almost.

“Um, guys? Shouldn’t we go now?” the boy suggested, feeling like he was intruding upon a moment but they couldn’t stay here all night and risk getting caught. “What if more of them come?”

“So, who’s the little one?” Jack leaned to the side so he could take a better look at the boy, eying him with intrigue while Bruce took off his cloak and draped it around Jack’s shoulders to warm him up. 

“I’m not little!” Richard defended himself, offended by the description. He crossed his arms as he stared down the jester.

“Uh, yes you are, shorty!” Jack poked back. Bruce muttered something into his ear to which Jack nodded.

“No, I’m not!” the boy pouted.

The king took out his waterskin and gave it to his lover who gulped down what was left of the water. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. At least his throat wasn’t as parched and sore anymore. 

“Thanks, Brucie,” he sighed and returned the waterskin.

“I’m twelve!” Richard announced as he looked at the pale man with indignation.

“Hi Twelve, I’m Jack!” The jester cackled and Bruce gave him a ‘Really?’ kind of look as he fastened the cloak around his neck so it would stay on him and keep him warm. Jack’s body felt too cold for Bruce’s liking.

“Ugh!” The boy rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in resignation. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me that wasn’t funny!” Jack continued to mess with the kid, it was too much fun. There was that devilish smirk too. “I like pouty over here,” he pointed at the kid. “Reminds me of someone I know.” The jester exchanged knowing looks with Bruce and chuckled. 

“Now’s really not the time for this. You two can bicker when we escape from here,” Bruce warned them, but his remark was mostly aimed Jack. “Can you stand?”

“Aw, I was just trying to lighten up the mood, darling. It was getting too doom and gloom for my tastes.” Jack tried to stand up but his body ached and he barely had any energy to do much so he grabbed onto Bruce for support. The king let Jack wrap his arm around his shoulders and helped him up carefully until he could stand on his feet and lean most of his weight on him. “Thanks,” Jack gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll have find a way to show you my gratitude later.”

Richard watched them with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. He cleared his throat to remind them he was still there and it was successful because now both Bruce and Jack were looking at the boy. The king quickly looked away with embarrassment. Thankfully, the dim light hid the blush on his face. Or so he hoped.

“I guess I should thank both of you for coming to my rescue!” Jack announced but before he could add anything more he noticed movement. The assassin was getting up and reaching for the discarded blade on the ground. At that moment Jack acted in an instant, adrenaline kick-starting his body into action and pushing all of the pain from his injuries to the side. Without hesitation, he pulled out Bruce’s second dagger from its sheath and lunged at the Talon, screaming.

It took Bruce and Richard by surprise when Jack suddenly jumped into action, throwing himself at the Talon and pinning him back down on the ground, sinking the dagger into the assassin’s neck. A sick gurgle left the Talon’s mouth as he choked on his own blood, the blade cutting his air supply.

“I told you I’d kill you,” Jack hissed and twisted the dagger. The assassin’s legs stopped twitching soon after, lifeless.

Bruce and Richard stood there, stock-still as they witnessed what was happening. The king pulled Richard so he wouldn’t have to see this but the boy refused to move or look away from the scene. Though, he was sure the boy had seen much worse, he still didn’t want him to witness this.

Finally, Jack lifted himself off the dead assassin and Bruce rushed to take hold of him and steady him before the smaller man slumped back to the ground, the last of his energy drained.

“He was gonna hurt you guys, I had to do something,” Jack justified his actions, gesticulating wildly. “Plus, he was a jerk. He tortured me, but worst of all he almost killed you, Bruce! And the kid!”

Bruce sighed, but otherwise remained silent. Jack was right, even if he didn’t like to admit it out loud. The assassin had tortured Jack, killed who knows how many people before that, and was almost going to kill him too. Twice, if Jack hadn’t stopped him just now. Still, it felt like they could have gotten some more information from the Talon before it had to come to that. But then again, they were short on time and couldn’t drag the assassin back to the castle in their state. It wasn’t how he wanted to deal with things but their hands were tied now. In a manner of speaking.

“What’s done is done. What matters right now is that we are all alive,” he eventually responded after pondering the situation for a short while. He adjusted Jack’s arm around his shoulders, looking at both of his companions, glad they all managed to survive so far. Hurt in different ways, but alive.

“You okay, kid?” he focused on Richard.

“Yeah,” he finally tore his eyes off the dead body and looked up at Bruce. “I’m okay. Can we get out of this place now? I don’t want to be here anymore,” the boy felt uncomfortable and wanted to get away from this scene. Bruce knew the boy had been scarred by too much death lately to stand one more, even at the hands of the assassin who might be responsible for the murder of his parents. Bruce had to admit he felt a kind of a relief to see that Richard found no satisfaction in the murder of the Talon. There was hope for him yet. And Bruce would help him follow the light.

“Let’s go then, before more of them arrive,” the king agreed and quickly picked his discarded dagger, tucking it back in its sheath, leaving the other one where it was - stuck in the assassin’s neck. Then he started for the entrance to the passageway, with Jack in tow. 

“You can lead the way this time, take this,” he instructed Richard and handed him one of the lit torches. The boy nodded and followed his instructions, going ahead of them. “You know the drill, watch your step and light the way for us,” Bruce added and led Jack out of the dungeon and back into the tunnel, walking closely behind Richard. 

“How are you feeling?” Bruce turned to Jack after a while, concerned at the pained sounds he made.

“Just peachy,” Jack winced and grit his teeth, “just a little hard to breathe is all. That guy rearranged my insides something good.” That didn’t really sound very reassuring so Bruce’s expression turned even darker. Jack brushed it off quickly. “I’ve had way worse, I’ll live.” Somehow, that sounded even less reassuring.

“Tell me if you want to take a break. It’s a long way out,” Bruce offered, trying to ease Jack’s suffering however he could but the smaller man squeezed his shoulder tighter in response.

“No, we are not stopping. Let’s just get out of here,” the jester was stubborn, but the king was not fully buying the strong front he put up to make light of his condition. Even though he didn’t like being here any longer than he had to either. “I know I said this earlier, but…thank you for coming to save me, Bruce,” Jack whispered, sighing when Bruce pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

“You know I’d always come for you, Jack,” the king whispered back and cocked an eyebrow when Jack smirked knowingly. It took him a moment to realize why that was before snorting quietly and returning the smirk. “I guess that way too,” he said, smiling like an idiot. At least it took both of their minds off the dire situation. Someone had to keep things light. Speaking of light…

“Sooo, we might have gotten off on the wrong foot back there. What’s your name, kiddo?” Jack looked ahead at the boy carrying the torch. Bruce was grateful that Jack put effort into being nice this time around.

“Richard,” the boy answered after a short pause, debating whether there was another jab coming if he did.

“Richard, huh? I like it,” Jack said sincerely and considered something. "Can I call you Dick?" The boy stopped and turned around to face him. “And as you already know, my name’s Jack. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Richard.” Jack gave him a respectful bow, obviously overdoing his introduction, but he always had a flair for the dramatic. Nevertheless, Bruce appreciated it as he watched the exchange. Eventually the boy smiled and continued to lead the way.

“See, I knew we could be friends!” Jack exclaimed excitedly.

“Maybe,” the boy replied, but it sounded more hopeful than disregarding. “If you are a friend of Bruce’s then I guess you’re okay.”

“You hear that, Bruce? I’m okay!” Jack looked at Bruce with childish enthusiasm and giggled but had to restrain his laughter because his cracked ribs were digging painfully into his lungs. He winced and put his hand over his injury but quickly decided against it. Instead he placed his hand over Bruce’s, on his hip. 

“So how did you guys end up-Whoa!” They entered the cave chamber and the jester was taken aback by the abyss stretching ahead and underneath them. “Well, I certainly don’t remember THAT part of the tour on the way in,” He leaned a little to the side, curious to see how deep it went but it was hard to tell. Bruce tightened his hold on him so Jack wouldn’t fall down in his attempt to satisfy his curiosity. “Cozy, wouldn’t you say?”

“Quite. Now be careful and watch your step,” Bruce warned and pulled Jack back from the edge. His warning fell on deaf ears, however. The smaller man kept looking anywhere but at his feet so it was up to Bruce to watch out for the both of them as they made their way across the gap.

“Anywho! Humor me. What’s with the kid?” the jester focused his attention back on the little man ahead of them when they entered another passage. “It’s very unlike you to bring children into life-or-death situations like this.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Richard chimed in from ahead. “And for the last time, I’m not a baby! I can take care of myself,” he protested.

“Wonder where I’ve heard that before,” Jack muttered under his breath and smirked. “It’s like seeing little Bruce Junior. How cute!” The jester couldn’t help but giggle, quickly regretting that when he felt the familiar shot of pain in his side.

“Jack,” the king’s tone was warning once again, with a bit more finality. “Play nice.” 

“I AM being nice!” Jack acted all offended at the suggestion he was on anything but his best behavior. “You didn’t answer my question, Brucie,” his voice lilted, trying to pacify his lover. 

Bruce sighed. As irritating as being on the other side of Jack’s vexing remarks could be, he was so used to it at this point that he found it rather endearing instead. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, though.

“Richard was watching Lord Wycliffe’s estate when I found him. Turns out we have a common grievance against the Court, but I’ll leave the details for later. He pointed me in the right direction and if it wasn’t for his help, things would have probably turned out very differently.” The king sighed and there was a long pause after that. Jack knew why that was so he squeezed his shoulder to remind him it was okay. “In my defense, I did try to keep him away but he insisted on tagging along, there was no stopping him once his mind was set on it. Right, kid?”

“Yep!” Richard declared, proud of himself, turning around to give Bruce a tiny smile before he continued. “You were kind to me so I wanted to help you too.”

“Aw, stop it, you guys. I think I’m gonna cry,” Jack sniffled at the touching exchange. “You two are adorable!” He cooed and the king smiled too at that. “I’m sure his folks would be really proud of him.”

Judging by the dead silence that fell over his company, Jack realized he might have said the wrong thing. Again. Bruce gave him a pointed look and shook his head.

“They were killed,” Richard admitted suddenly after a long pause, as if it took strength to gather his thoughts and say it out loud. He kept marching forward and refused to turn around or say anything else on this matter. Bruce knew it must have taken a lot to say it again, as if uttering these words would bring about the sad reality Richard refused to accept just yet. It was never easy dealing with loss, especially for a child.

“Ah…I’m sorry then,” Jack offered his apologies. Things started clicking together in his mind, realizing why Bruce had taken such a liking for the boy. Though it wasn’t just a liking, it was something more akin to responsibility on Bruce’s part. A need to protect the boy and make up for the fact he couldn’t prevent his parents’ death even when it was out of his hands. It was uncanny how both of them had suffered similar fates at the hands of the same enemy, their common tragedies binding them together. It was very poetic in a way, Jack thought.

“Well, we’re still proud of you, kid,” Jack offered. “Right, Bruce?” He nudged at the other man to confirm. It would help bring the boy at least a little peace, knowing he was not alone right now.

“You did good, Richard,” Bruce agreed and hoped even just those few words would be enough. And they were. 

They walked in silence for a while after that as they moved past another chamber. Jack really didn’t recall how he ended up in the dungeon because he was knocked out before he got here, so he took in everything he could now during their quick retreat. This place had obviously been left at the mercy of fate, seeing as how decrepit it all appeared now. He wondered how it might have looked when it actually served some purpose long ago. Besides being used as a prison for the unlucky few who dared cross the Court.

Jack was getting tired and all he wanted was to just curl up in the corner and fall asleep. The pain was not letting up either, even though he had a rather high pain tolerance to begin with. Still, cracked or possibly broken ribs were serious business, and he was sure he had a concussion as well. He leaned more of his body on Bruce who noticed it was getting difficult for his lover to support his own weight. He couldn’t wait until they were out of this cursed place.

“Hang on, we’re almost out,” Bruce read his mind and tried to reassure him, knowing he was hurting and nearly at his limits. Jack appreciated the sentiment and did his best to hold on and move. Bruce had gotten injured too during the fight with the Talon yet he never uttered a sound of pain during their escape. Maybe he was doing it for Jack’s sake, pushing through the discomfort so Jack would have the support he needed, physically and emotionally. Maybe he was reading too much into things and all of this was the concussion messing with him.

Soon they passed through a crypt and were ascending a stairway. Going up was a good sign and Jack could almost feel the sweet taste of freedom, right around the corner. Richard pushed a door left slightly ajar, and they were back inside the chapel which was just as deserted as it was when they first came here.

“Pass me the torch.” Bruce got the torch from Richard and placed it where the previous one had been, closing the door shut until he heard a click. Locked now. It would look like no one had been through here, though whoever did enter would soon find out their prisoner had escaped. At least it would buy them some time until their pursuers realize what had really happened down there.

“Finally!” Jack tried taking a deep breath when they were outside the chapel, and instantly regretted that decision when his side protested again. But it felt good to get some fresh air at last. Before he could say anything else, Bruce quickly led him towards the cover of the bushes and trees until they were out of sight, with Richard following suit.

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone out yet,” Bruce inspected their surroundings until he was sure the coast was clear for them to move. “It’s still dark so no one’s up yet but I wouldn’t push our luck. It’s best not to linger. How are you feeling, Jack?” Bruce looked at his lover with concern.

“I’d be better if I could lay down for a bit but now’s hardly the time or place for it. I’ll manage, let’s just go.” Jack gave a weak smile but he didn’t sound very convincing. He was right, they couldn’t afford to linger here. The sooner they got to safety, the sooner they could finally take care of their wounds and rest.

So Bruce led the way, sticking to cover whenever they could, just in case. It was dark but they still had to stay alert because they were not out of the woods just yet. The early hour worked to their advantage so they had to make use of it.  
They were almost out of the lord’s land when they heard horses coming their way, so they quickly ducked down behind a bush to remain hidden. The king peeked out a little to see who it was and his suspicions were confirmed. The lord was back. He ducked back down and remained quiet until the horses had passed their hiding place. Bruce felt the rush of adrenaline again and as soon as the horses were far enough he stood up, with Jack in tow, and motioned for Richard to follow.

“Where are we going?” the boy whispered as he kept close behind them. There were no more bushes and trees around so they had to go into the open, crossing a bridge that led back into town. They still had to remain cautious even if it appeared they were out of immediate danger.

“Away from here,” Bruce was not very specific as he kept moving forward, trying to formulate a plan in his head. They would be safest in the castle, but it was a long way to there. But that was also the first place the assassins would be looking for Jack as soon as they realize he had escaped with someone’s help most likely. The Talons wouldn’t dare attack in the castle. Would they? He had practically declared war on the Court with his speech earlier, so they would probably be mobilizing their forces for an attack soon anyways. Bruce wasn’t left with many choices, he didn’t plan on things going the way they did. It went without saying that he blamed himself for letting Jack go through with this. If he…

“Stop that,” the jester put a stopper on his thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking so don’t!” Jack left no room for argument as he pushed himself to walk faster, forcing Bruce to match his pace and for Richard to skip beside them. The pace was putting more strain on his lungs but he welcomed the pain this time. “You blame yourself but it was my decision, Bruce. I chose to do this. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes.”

Bruce had to slow Jack down before he hurt himself more, pulling them both to a stop, facing his lover.

“I’m so-“ but before Bruce could finish his words, Jack placed a finger on his lips to hush him.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry about, darling,” the jester gazed at his king and smiled. “Thank you for jumping after me into the abyss, even when you didn’t know what was waiting for you at the bottom. Whatever it is, at least we’ll find out together. Isn’t that the best part?”

Bruce was overcome with emotion, gazing at his lover who looked back at him with such hope, all bloody and broken and disheveled. And yet at that moment he was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. It was stronger than him so his body gave in - past the small hours of the morning, in the middle of the street, seen or unseen, he surrendered.

They met in the middle, letting their yearning hands and starved lips speak the secret language of two lovers that no one could keep apart. It carried with it a meaning that couldn’t be expressed with mere words, of things left unsaid but deeply desired, forbidden yet liberating if two were brave enough to speak that language.

Richard gasped silently at the display, turning away quickly, red with embarrassment as his mind reeled in shock with the realization. Of all the things he expected, this was not one of them. Though, some things certainly made more sense now.

“You can turn around now, kid,” Jack chuckled and readjusted his hold on Bruce so he could better support his weight. Bruce was a little sheepish when his brain caught up with the fact that they had an audience but again, Jack didn’t give him a chance to overthink as he tugged at him to start moving again. “This will be our little secret, eh?” The jester winked at the boy as they passed him by. “Let’s go home then, shall we? I’m dying to get some rest,” he chuckled again at his own word choice, ignoring the fact his side hurt every time he did that.

Richard lingered for a short moment before he skipped after them to catch up. It was best not to ask too many questions and it was not really any of his business to do so anyways. Adults are weird. He had only one immediate question right now.

“So, where’s home?” the boy asked as he followed the others.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Jack wasn’t very forthcoming, but he sounded rather amused. Apparently Bruce hadn’t told the kid who he actually was. This was going to be so good! The jester giggled to himself at the thought.

They kept to the smaller streets and back alleys. There were no people outside at this hour but Bruce preferred to keep out of sight as much as possible. They had to reach the castle before the first light of dawn if they hoped to get inside without anyone noticing. The king wondered if the lord and his assassins have realized they had no prisoner to interrogate anymore. At any rate, it would do them no good to stay out in the open for longer than they had to.

It didn’t take too long to reach the bridge that led to the castle, but when they took their first steps to cross it, Richard suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Why are we going to the castle?” he questioned, a little confused, but when the others didn’t stop walking he ran up to keep pace with them. 

“Tell him, Brucie!” The jester nudged at the king playfully.

“Because that’s where we live,” Bruce said matter-of-factly, yet still evasive with his answers, not slowing down his pace. They were so close already.

“Whoa! You really live there?” Richard asked incredulously, looking at the castle with awe. “Are you some kind of knight or something?” Bruce stopped finally.

“You two go ahead, I’ll distract the guards so you can get inside safely, go!” Bruce whispered, ignoring Richard’s question for now and signaling for Jack to take the lead. 

Jack, however, had other ideas so he grabbed Bruce by the arm to stop him before he could go anywhere.

“Oh no, leave the distraction to the professional. They’ve already seen me leave earlier anyways. I’ll think of something, don’t you worry,” Jack smirked all cocky. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of finding your own way in.”

“Uh, guys? Why do we have to sneak? Isn’t that your home?” Richard sounded confused again at the whole situation.

“Because no one else knows about his nightly activities,” Jack pointed at Bruce. “They’re supposed to be super secret,” he said all hush-hush, looking pointedly at Richard.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way,” Bruce conceded. “See you inside.” He squeezed the jester’s hand gently and gave them both a nod before disappearing from sight, quiet as a mouse, as if he was never there.

“Who is he, really?” Richard asked, with equal parts awe and curiosity gnawing at him.

Jack adjusted the cloak on his shoulders and stood more proudly, looking down at the boy with a knowing smile that spoke subtly of affection.

“That, my boy…that’s the king.”


	2. A Matter Of Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the king is somehow both the villain and the hero of this story. Depends on who you ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during and after the previous chapter, something I wanted to include after all the pain and suffering, because what fun is hurt if there is no comfort afterwards. Just a little time to heal the wounds, both physical and mental, and reaffirm some truths.

~Earlier that night~

“I am sure you will all agree it is high time we take decisive action and deal with the threat that endangers our very existence. In fact, the existence of this whole kingdom,” Lord Wycliffe declared. 

“We have to! Before things get out of hand. This is madness! The king’s insolence was appalling, lecturing us on how society should work. It was disrespectful, an affront to our dignity. We will not stand for it!” Lady Crowne responded with righteous indignation, voicing her resentment loud and clear. The rest of the nobles sitting at the table shared her sentiments, humming and nodding in agreement before directing their attention back to Lord Wycliffe. He bowed respectfully to the lady and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers, confident, commanding respect.

“Indeed. We have remained hidden behind the scenes for years. Perhaps we have been too lax, expecting our ruler would see reason. We have been giving him nudges in the right direction so he would cease following in his father’s footsteps, but to no avail. It’s a pity, really. He could have been an ally but delusional idealism seems to run in the Wayne family. Gotham requires an iron grip it. With each passing year, I become more convinced of our beloved king’s inability to rule, considering his questionable ideas about prosperity and the common good. What have we come to? Peasants being on par with nobility? What a joke!” The lord mocked Bruce and everyone laughed as if that was the most ridiculous thing they have ever heard. And it probably was.

“Some poor peasant girl must have addled his brain. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case, slumming it with the dregs of society. One is bound to get dirty if they roll around in the pen along with the pigs,” another lord interjected, the comment drawing more laughter from the rest of the aristocrats. 

“Can you imagine? He’s been rejecting my daughter’s hand on every occasion! If it were up to her she would have kept him on a tight leash so none of this foolishness would ever happen,” Lady Crowne chimed in again, sounding offended. “Maybe it is for the best, if he has really found himself some whore to keep his bed warm…I wouldn’t want that shame on my family,” she shook her head in disgust.

“Indeed, the king has foiled our every attempt to get closer to him. He is too headstrong and cannot be easily swayed to see our way. If he is not with us, then he is against us. Nothing but a menace that needs to be dealt with!” Lord Elliot’s words unleashed a wave of cheers that died down when Lord Wycliffe clapped his hands to hush them and bring order to the room once again.

“To make matters worse, I caught a rat sniffing around my estate today. Someone in our employ who had the audacity to show his face after failing to accomplish a very important task - to assassinate our king. Instead, that wretch might be working for him now. A turncoat in our midst. This is unacceptable.” The nobles looked around, muttering something to one another, distressed and outraged by the betrayal. “I am sure you are all familiar with the king’s jester, whatever his name was. I suspect the king has sent him to do his dirty work and spy on us instead. But I assure you all, he will be dealt with swiftly and definitively. I will make an example of him. Traitors will not be tolerated.”

“I knew we couldn’t trust him,” a noble commented from the other end of the table.

“He looked shady from the very start,” another one joined in the discussion.

“Was he apprehended? We can’t risk him going back and reporting to the king,” a lady inquired.

“He is in my custody and so far refused to divulge any useful information, but I am sure the Talon that’s keeping him company right not will get him to talk,” Lord Wycliffe gave a knowing smile behind the mask. “Then he will die.” The nobles expressed their approval, relieved to hear their secrets are safe. Someone else, Lord Powers, cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention after a short moment of hesitation.

“There might be a connection to the break-in at my estate today. At first I thought it was some common thief looking for valuables, but you can imagine my surprise when I found out some of my correspondence seemed to have been misplaced as well. Which is enough cause for concern. Maybe it was the same man,” he looked to Lord Wycliffe for some sort of guidance or answers. It was too much to be just a coincidence, surely.

“He had no documents on him when the Talon apprehended him. He could be the one responsible for the break-in, but we also can’t dismiss the possibility that he was not working alone. I will know more when I return to my estate.” The lord considered this for a while when suddenly his mood shifted. “And I thought our policy on correspondence and documents pertaining to the Court was made very clear. No trace must be left of it. Burned after reading,” his tone was threatening and cold. It went without saying that it didn’t bode well for whoever broke the rules. Some avoided looking at the lord out of fear, perhaps guilty of the same thing.

“I apologize for my indiscretion. It will not happen again,” the noble cowered in his seat and apologized profusely, hoping he wouldn’t get punishment for this slip.

“See to it that it does not,” Lord Wycliffe warned with finality. “It is on your head if your mistake compromises all of us.” The noble bowed his head in acknowledgement at those words, feeling the full weight of their meaning. The dreadful silence continued for a while longer before the lord finally spoke again.

“In light of all the recent developments, the best solution would be to dispose of our foolish king altogether. Take him out of the picture before he can do more damage by instilling false hope in the commoners and poisoning their minds. Our previous attempts at his life were just a warning. Sadly, our king cannot take a hint so we will have to show him that we are serious. This is not a chessboard he can rearrange however and whenever he pleases. There is an order to things. There are rules. We will not allow our positions, or our traditions to be undermined by an arrogant brat who thinks he knows the inner workings of this world better than his elders. And there is only one way to deal with that kind of problem permanently, once and for all.” The lord smiled behind his mask when the other courtiers all nodded in agreement. He made one final appeal.

“So I propose we put it to a vote. Everyone in favor of the king’s demise, please raise your hand,” Not surprisingly, all nobles raised their hands in response. The lord smiled again and nodded, pleased with the results. “By unanimous vote, it is decided. Bruce Wayne’s fate is sealed and his days are numbered. We will send our best to do the job we should have finished years ago.” The masked nobles clapped, showing their wholehearted approval and support for the decision.

“It was high time!”

“Shame, all that wasted potential.”

“Good riddance, I say.”

“Fellow courtiers…Our families have stood against adversity in the face of inept kings and queens for centuries. We are survivors and we know how to remove anything that may threaten our existence or shake our beliefs. We are Gotham’s foundations and no one will put us on the sidelines ever again. We are the ones in control, just like we have always been throughout countless ages. This kingdom owes us all its past, present, and future.” Lord Wycliffe rose from his seat. 

“Brothers and sisters, WE are Gotham’s true kings and queens!” The grandmaster finished his empowering speech by opening his arms, welcoming the loud applause of his fellow nobles.  
Etched on the wall was a stone owl - their only witness.

The die was cast.

* * *

~A few hours later~

There was a knock at the door. The sudden noise startled Alfred out of his sleep. He didn’t even remember when he had fallen asleep. The last thing he did remember was reading a book to keep himself occupied and awake, but that might have been a bad idea, seeing as it had the opposite effect on him. He hadn’t even bothered changing into his nightshirt.

That’s right. He was waiting for Bruce to return. Alfred had visited the king earlier that night to check up on him when he realized that the king was gone. It didn’t take much to figure out why that was. The jester had probably gotten himself into trouble and it was unlike the young king to just sit around, wait and hope for the best. He couldn’t blame him, Bruce could never stay idle when someone was in danger, even more so because that someone was Jack. Which led to Alfred staying up almost all night, worrying about the young man and inadvertently falling asleep in his chair. 

Another knock came, followed by a familiar voice.

“Alfred? Al, it’s me,” a man said on the other side of the door. Alfred quickly got up from his chair and hurried to open the door. It was a relief to hear that voice again. But as soon as he opened the door his relieved expression quickly turned to worry. 

“Bruce? Dear God, what happened?” Alfred exclaimed when saw the state of him, the blood-soaked bandage around his middle and thigh, not to mention the traces of red on his face and neck too. 

“I’ll tell you everything, but I may need your help first. Can you get some clean water and linen and bring them to my chambers?” Bruce sounded tired and weak, pressing a hand over his stab wound. “Bring extra because I’m not the only one in need of patching up,” he added and gave a sheepish smile to placate Alfred, knowing the chiding that would inevitably follow.

Instead, Alfred sighed. There was no use in arguing about it now. At least he was back. In one piece. Now he had to make sure the king didn’t bleed out, because knowing how Bruce always ignored his own well-being, there was a very strong possibility he was doing it again so he wouldn’t worry anyone. Alfred knew better.

“Right away, sir,” the steward reassured him, and hurried off to get the needed supplies. This was happening all too often lately for his liking, but he expected this would not be the end of it either. A storm was brewing on the horizon, and the Court of Owls was at the center of it. He hoped Bruce could weather it and come out of it alive in the end. He would not allow or stand for another good man to die at the hands of this cabal.

Alfred sighed again as he walked back to the king’s chambers at a brisk pace, carrying what he was asked to bring. Maybe he should have called for the royal physician too. That would have been the sensible thing to do, but Bruce had always been opposed to that particular idea in the past. There was no reason to think now would be any different. At this point Alfred had become quite proficient in the art of patching Bruce up. Even if he wished it didn’t have to come to that. If wishes were horses…

It didn’t take long for him to reach the king’s chambers at this pace. He knocked on the door to announce his arrival before entering the room only to find it had more occupants than he expected. Three sets of eyes turned in his direction with curiosity.

“Hey, look who it is! Nice of you to drop by, old man! Make yourself at home!” Jack exclaimed, face bloodied and bruised but cheerful as ever; nothing could get that man down, apparently. Alfred didn’t say anything in response to the ‘warm welcome’, just sighed. He should be used to this by now. Jack let out a giggle when Bruce tugged at his chin until the jester was facing him again to continue what he was doing. Which was to clean Jack’s face from the all the dirt and dried blood around his mouth and from his seemingly broken nose. His lip was busted too but that didn’t deter him from smiling still.

As quaint as this whole situation was, something else caught Alfred’s attention. The fact that there was a third person in there. A boy, sitting at the table and devouring Bruce’s untouched dinner like his life depended on it. The boy quickly stopped what he was doing, looking at the older man with interest as soon as he entered and closed the door, no doubt wondering who he was. Alfred was just as curious about him. The last thing he expected to find in the king’s room was a child.

“And who is this young man?” Alfred stepped closer and left the supplies on the table, inspecting the boy who sat there. He looked rather young to be involved in anything Bruce was dealing with, which made this mystery all the more intriguing. The boy sized him up and then gazed at Bruce as if looking for some sort of reassurance perhaps.

“It’s okay, he’s a friend,” Bruce nodded and gave Richard a small smile before returning his attention to Jack who kept fidgeting on the bed. “Can’t you keep still for a second?” Bruce was aiming for annoyed but it sounded more affectionate instead.

“Have I told you what beautiful eyes you have, darling?” Jack hummed and smiled dreamily at his lover while Bruce gently wiped the blood off and around his mouth, careful of the split lip. The king snorted in response and bestowed him with another smile, amused.

“I believe this is the fifth time you’ve said that in the last ten minutes, Jack,” Bruce nudged him, but the smile never left his face entirely. “I hope they didn’t hit your head too hard.”

“Trust me, Brucie, I’m more lucid than ever,” Jack giggled again and closed his eyes, smirking while Bruce held him and cleaned the rest of his face from the dirt and blood. “You’ve been counting, huh?” 

Alfred tried not to invade their private moment but it was pretty hard to ignore their flirting as he prepared the bandages. No matter how infuriating the jester could be sometimes, Alfred was glad that he was keeping Bruce’s mind occupied with lighter things. Knowing Bruce, he would be brooding by now if it wasn’t for the jester’s distractions. He could tell that they have been through a lot tonight by the way they both looked, so maybe Jack’s lighter tone was a blessing in disguise.

Luckily, someone came to Alfred’s rescue before the flirting could get on the dangerous side of shameless.

“I’m Richard,” the boy said suddenly, looking at the older man. That took Alfred’s attention off the king and the jester, focusing on the boy instead.

“A very noble name. It is very nice to meet you, Richard. My name is Alfred,” the steward gave him a warm smile and bowed his head slightly. “I am glad Bruce has made a new friend.”

“Nice to meet you too.” The boy returned the smile and continued to eat, this time at a more relaxed pace as he kept glancing around, inspecting what other curiosities were there in the king’s chambers.

“Alright, why don’t you get that dirty shirt off and let Alfred patch your arm up while I find something clean for you to put on, okay?” Bruce suggested, and brushed Jack’s hair away from his face lovingly. Alfred could tell the king wasn’t pleased with the ugly bruises and cuts marring the jester’s pale face, but at least he was clean now.

“Whatever you say, my king,” Jack teased and maneuvered to take his shirt off with a bit of effort. The sight of his naked torso took both Alfred and Bruce by surprise. The extent of his injuries was worrisome. 

“Dear lord,” Alfred exclaimed, both him and Bruce wincing at the sight. Even Richard had a pained expression when he turned to see what the fuss was all about. There were even nastier bruises hidden underneath the shirt than there were on Jack’s face, spanning from the side of his chest all the way down to his waist and stomach. The bruises was all the more stark against his pale skin.

“What did those bastards do to you…” Bruce reached out to feel the darkening skin on the chest, making sure his touches were gentle and light. Jack suddenly sucked in a breath and the king pulled his hand away as if burned. “Sorry,” he apologized, his expression quickly turning to anger, clenching his fists tightly. “When I get my hands on them…”

“It’s fine, it looks worse than it is, really, the other guys had it way worse,” Jack shrugged it off but his nonchalance didn’t do much to bridle Bruce’s anger. So he took his lover’s hands and forced his fists to open so they could hold hands instead. The contact calmed Bruce down almost instantly. “The ones who did this have already paid for it, love. You know that.”

Alfred had to admit it was beyond strange to see Jack being the voice of reason, the last person he expected to hear this from. Surprisingly, it worked because Bruce relaxed and instead of angry, he looked regretful at the jester. Jack moved his right hand to caress his lover’s cheek, giving him a reassuring smile that promised everything would be alright.

Maybe Alfred had underestimated Jack. Maybe there really was more to him than he thought, a side that he only ever showed to Bruce alone. Gone were the pestering, teasing, and jokes, like a mask he put on when others were around to fool them all into thinking that was really all there was to him in the first place. 

This scene felt too intimate somehow so Alfred looked away and busied himself with the bandages on the table. He took the basin of water and a piece of the linen and brought them to the small bedside table.

The movement brought the two men out of their little bubble of reality. Bruce cleared his throat and let go of Jack, reluctantly, pink dusting his cheeks when he realized they were not alone and he couldn’t just stare all night into his lover’s eyes. He had to find a shirt for him to put on after Alfred was done with patching him up. So he focused on that.

“Now then, let’s get that wound cleaned and bandaged, shall we?” Alfred suggested, expecting the jester to cooperate and make it easy on him. Which he did, thankfully, with minimum fuss. With just the token joke here and there, but it wasn’t anything Alfred couldn’t handle.

Meanwhile, Bruce went to his chest of clothing and knelt down to find something appropriate for Jack to put on. While the steward worked on cleaning the wound he saw Richard wipe his mouth and hands, standing from his chair and going to where Bruce was. Apparently something had gotten his attention. The king’s mantle was hanging on display near them, lavish and resplendent. Its rich red color spoke of royalty. The boy reached out his hand to feel the fabric which was probably the most expensive thing he had seen or touched before in his life.

“I still can’t believe you’re the king,” Richard said as he admired the mantle, turning his gaze to Bruce. “I mean…” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, unsure and a little nervous.

Bruce stopped his rummaging and turned to face the boy fully, almost on eye-level with him.

“It doesn’t change anything, Richard,” he put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder and smiled. It helped to settle his nerves.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The boy asked, genuinely perplexed. Bruce sighed at the question. It took him a moment to find the right words to answer.

“It’s not really something you say to someone you just meet. ‘Hey, nice to meet you, I’m Bruce. Oh, and I am the king of Gotham, by the way.’” As soon as the king said that the jester snorted from where he was sitting on the bed, amused at his words, adding ‘good one’ over his shoulder. Maybe he was proud of his lover for showing his deadpan sense of humor more. 

Alfred paid attention to their conversation as well while wrapping the linen around Jack’s cleaned wound. Jack’s personality had really rubbed off on Bruce if he was making jokes like that. Maybe that was not too much of a bad thing after all, he thought.

“Plus, it didn’t really feel like there was a right moment to say it. We had other things to worry about that were more important than my title,” Bruce added and looked away for a moment before continuing. “And to be honest, I didn’t want you to look at me differently if you knew I was the king,” he admitted almost ashamed to say it out loud.

“Are you kidding me? That’s awesome!” Richard took him by surprise with his reaction. Bruce looked up at him again with a disbelieving expression on his face. 

“You tell him, kiddo!” Jack chimed in again, cheering on the boy.

“Yeah! You were amazing out there, I mean…” Richard looked at Bruce in awe. “You’re so smart and strong…And how you kicked that assassin’s butt! I didn’t know kings were this cool!” He expressed his admiration with such genuine enthusiasm that it made Bruce smile despite himself. Alfred smiled too, just about finished with Jack’s bandage as he put the dirty shirt away and then went back to the table to get more linen.

“Brucie’s the best, ain’t he?” Jack sounded dreamy as he joined in on the admiration, clearly enamored with his king.

“Guys, come on,” the king tried to stop them but it was impossible to hold back the tide of appreciation coming his way.

“Young Richard has a point,” even Alfred joined, glad everyone was on the same page when it came to Bruce. He didn’t miss the ‘you too?’ look that the king sent his way. Bruce really needed to hear that more often to remind him he was doing great, that not all was hopeless and there were those who appreciated him as a person, for who he really was. Alfred was glad there were more people who really saw the man beyond the title, the real Bruce, and made him feel happy. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Bruce chuckled, overwhelmed by the positivity and support, feeling bashful all of a sudden. He turned back to the chest and without much thinking, pulled out the first shirt he saw and brought it to his lover. 

Richard followed him like a shadow and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“Here you go, Jack,” the king handed him the shirt, his cheeks still a little pink.

“Thank you dear,” the jester gave Bruce a meaningful look as he took the shirt and pulled his lover by the hand until he was close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek, before proceeding to put on the garment. It was too big on him but he looked positively delighted to be wearing Bruce’s clothes, judging by the big smile plastered on his face. His hair was all mussed up so Bruce instinctively reached out to comb it with fingers, the gesture so full of tenderness. Jack was like an affectionate cat that was being petted, leaning into the touch and looking up at Bruce with such an intense feeling which Alfred could only describe as…love.

It was real.

That simple exchange of affection, the way they looked at one another like they were each other’s whole world, it was in that moment that Alfred knew. Their love was real.

Whatever doubts or misgivings he had about Jack were unimportant anymore. It was a relief. He realized he was smiling. He had been this whole time and he didn’t even know it until just now. He was glad.

“Alright then,” Alfred cleared his throat, “let’s take care of your injuries too, son. Take that off, please,” he said and gestured at Bruce to remove his shirt. Bruce was wearing just his black undershirt and pants, while his armor laid discarded on one chair to be put away later. The makeshift bandage around his middle looked in desperate need of changing at this point and Alfred was done ignoring it.

The king tore his gaze away from his lover, albeit unwillingly, and did as he was told without any protest. He removed the blood-soaked bandage and the shirt, and looked down at the source of the pain. Even though the blood had coagulated around the edges of the stab wound by now, a little bit of blood still trickled out now that there was nothing holding it closed. Luckily, the knife hadn’t damaged any vital organs and it wasn’t the worst he’d gotten by any means. 

Alfred could attest to that, but that still didn’t make it completely okay. He didn’t like seeing Bruce hurt in any way if it could be avoided. But no matter how many times he voiced his displeasure, the king still went out and got more. It couldn’t be helped.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred caught Jack shamelessly admiring Bruce’s naked upper body as the king undressed, but he was grateful and somehow surprised the jester didn’t make an embarrassing remark that would make things awkward again. Even Richard was amazed at how strong Bruce looked but as soon as he noticed the bloody wound he averted his eyes with a somewhat somber frown.

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just lie down for a little while…yes,” Jack yawned and tried to stretch but his own injuries didn’t allow him much freedom of movement, unless he was deliberately looking for pain. Instead, he crawled up the bed in a languid manner and laid his head on the pillows, settling down in a comfortable enough position on his good side, sighing as his body finally relaxed on the soft bed.

“That might be a good idea. Can’t imagine any of you have gotten any sleep last night,” the steward commented as he soaked a piece of linen in the clean water before inspecting the wound on Bruce’s side more carefully.

Bruce watched as Jack settled down on the bed and his eyes closed, features gradually softening as he relaxed. Despite how battered and bruised he was, the jester looked at peace, which was a rather comforting sight for Bruce to see. That was until Alfred gently dabbed at his wound and broke him out of his silent reverie. The king hissed as his body recoiled on instinct but he let the older man take care of him, keeping his arm out of the way.

Alfred glanced at the king while cleaning his wound, still curious about what had transpired exactly earlier that night. Now was as good a time as any to ask the most burning question he had.

“So how did you two end up in the company of this fine young man?” the steward asked as he reached for a small piece of the dry linen, folding it neatly. Richard turned his attention back to them when he heard the question, looking between the two men, unsure if he should say something or let Bruce do the talking. He took his shoes off and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he watched and listened to their conversation.

“I found Richard outside Wycliffe manor, where Jack had supposedly gone to. Honestly, if it wasn’t for his help I would have wasted precious time looking in the wrong direction. He did really well,” Bruce looked at the boy with something akin to pride, a feeling Alfred could recognize anywhere. Like how a father would look at his son. The thought made the corners of Alfred’s mouth turn up.

“We learned that Lord Wycliffe is indeed involved with the Court of Owls. They had taken Jack into one of their dungeons for interrogation but we managed to get to him in time before they could do more permanent damage, thank goodness,” Bruce sighed and looked at his lover who was now fast asleep, snoring lightly on the bed. The king smiled adoringly at the sight.

There it was, that easy affection again. Despite the fact that the steward couldn’t understand what Bruce saw in Jack, he also couldn’t deny he was glad that he had found someone who loved him back just as much, so he was not going to question it. In all the years after his parents’ death, Alfred had never seen the young king show that kind of genuine affection to anyone, he would never let people in like that. Just Alfred, when the dust had finally settled and when Bruce was too tired to be angry at the world all the time. Those were dark times he wished they would never have to go through again.

“I’m telling you, Al, that dungeon was unlike anything I’ve seen before, it looked centuries old. And there is a very good chance there are more like it out there that we don’t even know about, right beneath our feet.” 

“That is a rather disquieting thought,” Alfred shared in Bruce’s worry. The king went on.

“Once we made it there, I fought off a Talon who had been torturing Jack before we arrived. That encounter would have had a very different outcome if it weren’t for Richard. He saved my life, both of our lives really, and I owe him a debt of gratitude for that,” Bruce nodded at the boy who smiled in return. Alfred hummed and smiled too at the sight as he wrapped the linen around Bruce’s waist.

“Sounds like young Richard has been very brave, indeed,” Alfred agreed with the praise. “But what of his family? Won’t they worry he is not back home yet? Or that he had been out in the first place?” he asked with concern as he continued wrapping the fabric around.

Bruce sighed and looked at the boy who bowed his head down. Both of them remained silent. The sudden shift in mood did not go unnoticed by the steward. When he looked up at Bruce and then at the boy he knew what those expressions meant. He had seen it before. The mark left by loss. 

The boy crawled up to the unoccupied side of the bed and curled up with his back turned on them. Alfred watched the boy, deeply saddened. This was an all too painfully familiar sight. Eventually, Bruce broke the silence.

“He has no one to go home to, Al. The Court made sure of that,” the king confirmed his suspicions. “That’s why he was where I found him. Out for revenge,” he quietly explained. “And I don’t know if I can blame him or if I would have done something differently. I felt like that kid again, no more than his age, angry and bitter, and so full of grief it hurt. It was like history repeating itself all over again before my eyes.” Bruce looked down, his brows furrowed in thought, taking his time before continuing. “I think we saved each other tonight, in our own ways. I couldn’t just leave him out on the streets. What he’s going through…He needs someone now more than ever.” 

“I know, Bruce,” Alfred gave a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly because he understood. He finished wrapping the rest of the linen and secured it so it would not unravel or get undone, keeping the injured place protected.

“I feel responsible for this. I allowed another child become an orphan because I couldn’t stop the Court in time. Who knows how many other monstrosities they have committed while I was busy playing king…” Bruce looked away, feeling ashamed of himself. Alfred would have none of that.

“You have to realize not everything is your responsibility, Bruce. We both know who is to blame and we both know you will stop them.” Alfred began and took the other man by the shoulders, demanding his full attention, because Bruce really needed to hear the truth. When he finally faced him, Alfred went on. “You may not be able to save everyone, but the important thing is that you care enough to try. That is more than most would ever do.”

Bruce hugged him then, tightly. The king didn’t have to say anything because this hug expressed all of his feelings perfectly. It filled Alfred’s heart with fatherly affection, hugging him back and holding him for the longest time. Bruce was not alone in his struggles. He had Alfred, he had Jack, and now he had Richard too. Fate had an interesting way of bringing people together.

Despite all the hardships and numerous challenges he had overcome throughout the years, Bruce was a good man who still cared so much about people to want to help them because no one else would. Someone who managed to turn all his anger and pain into a force for good, into noble deeds that many would never even know he did. An anonymous hero who needed no recognition. Alfred was so proud of him and he was sure his parents would be too if they were still alive today. Sometimes he wished he could take on more of his burdens so the weight of the whole world was not on Bruce’s shoulders alone to carry. He would do whatever was in his power to support him.

“Thanks, Al. You have always been there for me, through thick and thin.” Eventually, Bruce pulled back and his eyes were watery but he quickly wiped them dry and smiled at the older man. “And all that kindness must be passed forward.” The king gazed at the boy who now seemed to have fallen asleep as well. Poor boy must have been exhausted, and not just physically.

“I want him to stay and live here. He needs to know he is not alone, that someone still cares about him. Like how you cared about me even when you didn’t have to. Even when I was being difficult you never gave up on me.” Bruce looked down before he faced Alfred again with the tiniest hopeful smile on his face as he went on.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t save everyone…But I can save him.”

“I think you already did, Bruce. More than you realize,” Alfred easily returned the smile. He couldn’t be more proud of his king. No, his son. Because blood wasn’t everything. One could find family in the unlikeliest places, as life had already shown him.

“You can go rest now, Al, I can handle the rest. I appreciate your help, with everything,” Bruce offered and gave a reassuring smile to the older man. “I’ll be alright.”

Alfred looked hesitant but conceded after a moment of consideration. At least the worst wound was patched up now.

“If you are certain. I do not mind helping with the leg too,” the steward suggested again but the king had already made up his mind so there was no use trying to change it.

“Knowing how you worry too, you probably haven’t gotten much sleep either so I won’t keep you up any further. Get some rest, Al,” Bruce wouldn’t budge, so the older man didn’t press the matter any further. It was time to go. Whatever else there was to discuss could wait until later.

“I will take my leave then,” Alfred announced, keeping his voice quiet, and bowed his head to the king. He went for the door but before he could leave he added. “Please, get some sleep as well. You look like you could really use the time to recuperate.” Bruce nodded in response. 

Alfred stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly. He let out a heavy sigh. He felt tired but his mind reeled with all the recent developments. 

Arrangements had to be made for Richard’s stay - accommodations, clothing, education, something to keep his mind occupied as he coped with his loss and picked up the pieces. It was really kind of Bruce to take him in, no doubt he had recognized himself in the boy. Their fates were so similar it was uncanny, and the connection between them was undeniable. Maybe Bruce can guide the boy on a better path, set a good example for the young lad to follow. Alfred couldn’t think of a better role model for Richard to look up to. 

And yes, the Court of Owls…there was sure to be retaliation on their part. He hoped they would all be prepared when it inevitably comes. He had already set a chain of events in motion from which there was no going back. Now they can only brace for the impact and hope they are strong enough to withstand it. Alfred knew one thing for certain - he would not bury another Wayne, not Bruce too. Bruce deserved to be happy with the new family he finally found after so many years of solitude. He was not alone, and that thought inspired hope in the old man.

Soon enough the steward reached his quarters. Maybe some sleep would bring more clarity. He hoped Bruce would be doing the same.

* * *

And the king did, eventually.

Bruce patched his leg up in no time, probably with less care than Alfred would have done it but it was still better than how it was before. He gathered all the bloodied, torn clothes in a pile but that was as far as he went to tidy things up. It could be done later anyways. Exhaustion was far harder to ignore at this point and he couldn’t wait to get in bed and finally relax. The pain was not particularly pleasant but it was bearable so he could pretend it wasn’t there at all. Sleep would help.

What a night. He couldn’t even begin to unpack what had happened, but he didn’t really have to. Not right now, in this moment. Whatever worrisome thought crept around his mind, he pushed it to the side, because it could never compare to the sight of Jack and Richard sleeping peacefully on his bed. That was all the reassurance and comfort he needed. All the reason to keep going.

Bruce found a spare blanket and draped it over Richard and Jack to keep them warm. He tucked the boy in and caressed his head. Richard must have cried before he fell asleep because there was a small wet patch on his pillow. Poor boy. Bruce sighed. It would take a long time to overcome the trauma, but Bruce would be there for him. He couldn’t explain how and why he was feeling so affectionate and protective towards Richard so soon after meeting him. But it felt…nice. Maybe that was how Alfred felt towards him too.

The king moved around the bed to where Jack was sleeping and slipped under the covers beside him. Thankfully, the bed was big enough to fit all three of them, at least for tonight. He turned on his side, which was luckily his uninjured side, to face Jack and snuggled closer, their foreheads touching as they breathed each other’s air. Bruce moved his hand to gently cup his lover’s cheek and brush it tenderly with his thumb. Even in his sleep Jack still leaned into the warm and familiar touch out of instinct, chasing it. The king gazed at him for a while and smiled before tilting his head to press a soft kiss on the jester’s lips. 

“I love you.” A whisper. Eyes closed, slowly.

Jack was right here. 

All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially supposed to be part of the previous chapter, but then I thought it would be better if it stood on its own, thematically. Realized again how much I enjoy writing soft moments between the boys, the whole family really, can never get enough! They really need that before plot happens again sooner or later.  
> Anyways, big thank you for reading, hopefully enjoying, commenting, crying and laughing with me, we're in this ride together. Y'all keep me motivated like nothing else! <3 Stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> I might have overdone it a little bit, I could go on but it would get too long ^^; I thought plot would be a good palate cleanser, but I already miss writing smut. Life and work have been a bitch these past few weeks and I've had less time and energy to get into writing more, which is just sad.
> 
> But anyways, let me take the opportunity to thank everyone who made it this far, or if you stuck with it from the very beginning of this series. You're all awesome and I'm immensely grateful for your support, inspiration, and just for enjoying this whimsical little endeavor of mine.
> 
> And special thanks to @ask-jhon-and-brucie on tumblr for the sweet art they did of the boys, inspired by this AU. You can check it out [here](https://ask-jhon-and-brucie.tumblr.com/post/612776591340257281/so-i-was-reading-lady-dorkula-s-king-and-jester). You're a sweetie, your art made my week!! <3
> 
> It's crazy out there so take care of yourselves <3 And as always, comments are love <3


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